The Sound of Breaking Plates
by DA Jersey Devil
Summary: [Gorillaz] 2D finds a dog, but what will Murdoc think of it? I know the title sounds weird, but it does have purpose. Rated for Murdoc’s potty mouth. [COMPLETE]
1. Of Hospitals And Dogs

A/N: After two (three? Geh, I can't even remember) years I've decided to revive/finish my old Gorillaz fic after FF dot net decided to clear all the band based fics. Anyway, I hope you all like it and leave me reviews as they make me happy. One review can totally make my entire day. -wink, wink-

For this chapter, beware of hospitals, Murdoc's driving and cute little doggies. You have been warned!

And also, Murdoc, 2-D and the gang are not mine. But the dog is! Oh yes, and with my dog I shall take over the world! Bwahahahahaha! -coughsgagsanddies-

Kudos and cookies, all!

* * *

Chapter 1: Of Hospitals And Dogs

2-D shivered. He had never much liked hospitals. He had been in his fair share of them, but he still could never quite get used to the lingering quiet and the glaring white walls; white like the pearly gates themselves, which was the fate that awaited several of the hospitals occupants, he was sure. At that thought, he shivered again.

"2-D-san cold?" 2-D looked up to see the young Japanese girl with the water he had asked for. Along with the water, she had a worried expression.

After shaking his spiky blue hair and accepting the water, he replied, "No, Noodle, but fanks fer askin'." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small orange container. He emptied a few of its contents into his palm and drank them down with the water. He could feel a migraine coming on.

Once he was sure the painkillers were staying down in his nearly empty stomach, 2-D tried his cell phone again. He had been trying on and off for the last 45 minutes to ring Russel, but for some reason the American wasn't answering his phone.

When his fourth attempt proved futile, 2-D hung his head and rubbed his temples. He looked up at the double doors that led further into the hospital, and he chanced a glance at Noodle. She was reading a magazine, putting up a nice front, but her fear was showing around the edges; her hands were trembling as she turned the pages.

Picking up his phone, 2-D tried again to phone the drummer, but again he got nothing. He slid his phone back into his pocket and considered popping a few more pills, when a blaring ring pierced the quiet of the waiting room. At first the singer thought that it might be an alarm of some kind, but as the sound rang out again, it dawned on him that it was only his phone.

"Russ?" He answered with a squeak.

"Damn, 'D. Tryin' ta get a little sleep 'n my phone's ringing like there's no tomorrow. 'Sup?" Russel did sound tired, but there was no time for that.

"Russ, you gotta come down to the hospi'al. Me 'n Noodle are already here. Murdoc got into anover fight."

Russel sighed. "Again? How bad this time?"

"We dun know yet. He's still in the..." 2-D glanced over at the shaking, nervous guitarist. Not wanting to worry her anymore, he didn't finish his previous sentence. "We still dun know, Russ."

* * *

It had been three hours since Russel had managed to get to the hospital via two buses and a borrowed bicycle, and there was still no word yet on Murdoc. 2-D was really starting to worry about the bassist, and he was sure that Noodle was getting a little scared. She was now pacing the room and glancing at the imposing double doors with a look of dread. It had been far too long. He glanced over at Russ, who was pretending to read a magazine, but 2-D could see through the act because the drummer's milky white eyes were focused on the double doors. Plus the magazine was upside down.

"Oi, Russ, you wanna, you know, take Noodle 'n get some ice cream of somfin'?"

Russel cocked an eyebrow at the singer, but he knew what he was getting at. "Sure. You want something, 'D?"

Shaking his blue spikes, 2-D answered, "Nah." He was afraid that the chill of the ice cream might worsen his almost unbearable headache.

Just as Russel and Noodle were starting to walk out of the hospital's waiting room, the double doors that everyone had been so eagerly watching were thrown open from within with such force they cracked the wall when they made contact.

"Bloody dipshits. Just 'cos they got a fucking piece a paper, they think they can tell a guy if he's feelin' all right or not." The members of Gorillaz all breathed a sigh of relief. Murdoc seemed to be just fine.

"Murdoc-saaaaaaaaan!" Noodle yelled as she took a flying leap at the bassist.

Luckily for him, Murdoc caught her in midair and saved his bones another breaking. "Hey, you little Wasabi misfit, watch it. You wanna send me back in there after I just got out?" He asked as he set her on the ground. She proceeded to give him a quick hug however, which in turn caused Murdoc to roll his eyes.

"Murdoc!" 2-D leaped to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"A'course I am, Dullard." Murdoc pulled out a cigarette and lit it despite the no smoking sign some ten feet away. "A little bruise never 'urt no one."

"No, but a big bruise did. What happened, Muds?" Russel asked, indicating the new bandaged that Murdoc was sporting around his head.

"Eh? Oh, that. 'S just a little bump." Murdoc answered as he took a drag off his cig. "Nothin' ta write 'ome about."

"And what that, Murdoc-san?" Leave it to Noodle to point out what he was trying to hide.

Murdoc crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to conceal his secret, but by that time everyone had noticed the bandages under his shirt. " 'S nothing." He lied, looking around to find something to change the subject with.

"Muds." Russel said in that I'm-not-threatening-but-don't-mess-with-me voice of his.

Murdoc dropped his arms and rolled his eyes. "Just a few broken ribs. 'S like the morning ride ta work fer me." He took another drag on his cig. "So, wot happened ta Lee?" He asked, finally finding something to change the subject with.

"He's still in the ICU." 2-D supplied with his gap-toothed grin. Murdoc had done a pretty good job on Lee, until the rival bassist had grabbed a lead pipe and, in his last desperate attempt to settle the score in those few remaining moments before unconsciousness, swung as hard as he could. His attack landed square on Murdoc's chest, and when the Satanist had dropped to his knees, Lee had landed another one on Murdoc's temple. It was around then that the ambulance had arrived.

After exhaling a ring of smoke, Murdoc sniggered. "Serves the little bastard right, whacking me with a pipe."

Russel sighed and shook his head. He'd figured it was bad, but with Lee in the ICU, that would probably mean the rest of his wannabe band would come looking for a fight. A fight that Murdoc would be all too willing to give.

"Now, let's blow this bloody Popsicle stand before those damn docs try 'n get me ta stay again." Murdoc said as he started for the exit.

2-D cleared his throat. "Um, Muds? Maybe you should do what the doctors fink."

"We're leaving, face ache, 'n that's that." Before Murdoc could say anything more to argue his point, the double doors that everyone had been so eagerly watching were opened once again, only this time much more feebly. Out of the room staggered a doctor with a nice, ripe black eye.

Everyone turned to Murdoc, who merely rolled his eyes for the third time that night. "Bloody hell."

"Mr. Niccals!" the doctor called.

"Bugger this." Murdoc grabbed 2-D's arm and he yanked him along the hospitals twisting halls at a run, heading for the parking garage, with Russel and Noodle right behind him. "Where'd you park my Geep?"

"I dunno, I forgot." 2-D was struggling to keep up with the bassist, trying to remember where he had parked, and not trip over his own two feet.

Murdoc glared at the black-eyed singer next to him, and whacked the back of his head with his free hand. "DULLARD!"

* * *

When they finally reached the Geep (7 levels down in the underground parking lot) all of them were panting and tired. All except for Noodle, who was bouncing around, happy that all of her 'big brothers' were okay.

2-D got into his usual position in the passenger seat, but he gave Russ an uneasy glance as Murdoc flopped down behind the wheel. The Satanist grinned, started to stretch, winced, and then began looking for his keys.

"Damn doctors, I'll fix 'em. Come back 'ere, kerosene the place 'n call it a night." At that thought, he sniggered softly to himself.

Russ cleared his throat. He was standing outside the Geep next to Murdoc. "Hey, Muds. Gimme the keys. You're in no condition to drive."

Murdoc thrust the keys into the ignition and started the car. "Pry 'em from me cold, dead hands."

Russel sighed and shook his head. But, he lumbered around to the back of the Geep. There was no use arguing; it'd be like trying to win a fist fight with a brick wall. As soon as Russel made contact with the interior, Murdoc slammed on the gas and roared out of the space. Changing gears with a little more then a flick of his wrist, he thundered out of the parking garage and out into the street, where poor pedestrians were at the mercy of stationary objects to hide behind.

* * *

The second they pulled into Kong Studios, Murdoc went straight for the Whinny to have a few drinks and try to sleep off the morphine that the doctors had pumped into his system. Russ lumbered off to the kitchen, and Noodle raced upstairs to catch the last 15 minutes of The Powerpuff Girls, leaving 2-D alone in the car park.

The onyx-eyed singer started walking, not to his basement room, but out of the car park to the cemetery that surrounded Kong Studios. He walked to the edge of the Gorillaz property, to a little rise that overlooked a valley. On the outside, there was nothing special about this place, sure the view was lovely, but views like this always were. No, the place only held deep significance to 2-D. It was his place, and he loved it.

The rise was grassy, and there were spots of shade from a big oak tree that was set firmly in the ground of the rise. The valley it overlooked was beautiful too, it started wide but as it neared the horizon, it narrowed, so there were two large mountains with nothing between them but sky and horizon. For a few minutes during sunset, the sun looked caught between the two mountains, and it covered the valley with a golden glow that it never gave anyplace else. That was what 2-D liked best.

And that was why he sat there now. In another ten minutes he'd see the thing that gave him his inspiration. It was here that he thought of the song 'Starshine' and it was here that he spent every evening he could. He'd tried multiple times to get his fellow band members to come out here and see it with him, but they'd all, in some way or another, left him hanging. Murdoc had gotten bored in the first two minutes, left, and had missed the show completely, Russel had watched it once, but he said that it was nothing all that special and that if 2-D wanted to watch something cool, he should see New York City at night. Only Noodle had seen it more than once, but ever since that new season of Powerpuff Girls had started, she hadn't come to the golden valley anymore, and 2-D had never brought it up again. If his friends didn't like it, he couldn't make them, so everyday he sat out there by himself. And it was fine.

Sort of...

Sometimes, like now, he got lonely watching the sun die beyond the mountains, and he wished desperately for a friend to share this magic moment with. A friend to talk to, one who'd listen to everything he had to say, but who wouldn't care one way or the other.

2-D sighed and brought his long legs up to his chest and he rested his head on his knees. His black eyes held unshed tears, and as he watched the sun sinking, waiting for those few pivotal moments when the valley below him would turn into a golden spectacle that even heaven's angels would desire, he wished for a friend to watch the sunset with.

/_He smelt of sadness, and my ears heard his small sigh. His eyes were shining with unshed tears, and it was then that I decided to grant his wish./_

2-D heard the thing before he saw it. It was the sound of struggling, and of unchecked joy and happiness. He stood on his long, lanky legs and he walked over to the steep edge of the valley. It was then when he saw it. It was climbing the steep valley walls, trying to reach his rise.

It was a dog. 2-D could not place a breed to the dog's features, and he figured that it was a mutt, a stray by the looks of it too. It had long legs, and paws that were too big for it. It was thin from time on the streets, and its ears were floppy, as was its lolling pink tongue. It was of medium build, and there were two black patches of fur over its two mismatched eyes. Its bushy tail wagged with such force that 2-D was surprised that the nearby shrubbery was still standing. Kneeling down, the singer reached into the valley and pulled up the scruffy dog.

"Hey there, little fellah," 2-D said as he ineffectively tried to block his face from the entourage of licks. He laughed, and the dog barked and wagged its tail even harder, if that were possible. 2-D beamed at the dog he held in his arms, but as he held the dog over the valley, the sun hit its crucial point between the two mountains, and a shaft of golden light covered the valley in a glow as golden as the suns fire itself.

2-D looked at the golden dog that was glowing in the light. He saw the valley that had always reminded him of a little slice of heaven, and he was holding a creature from his heaven, a creature that shined with the light of his beautiful, wonderful place. "You an angel from heaven?" he asked in an awed voice.

The dog merely cocked his head to one side, and its face split into a doggy grin. 2-D laughed at the happy face. "No, s'pose not, but I bet'cher the next best fing." The sun died suddenly beyond the two peaks, and a darkness took hold of the valley as the sky quickly faded from yellow-orange to an inky blue/black that was dotted with stars. "Well, can't jus' let'cha stay outside all night."

The back-eyed singer repositioned the dog in his arms, and turned around, heading back through the cemetery towards the studios. /_Murdoc's gonna kill me..._/ He thought as he entered the studios.


	2. Of Greek Myths And Mismatched Eyes

A/N: Ordered a set of Gorillaz figures from Kidrobot yesterday. Now I only have to wait until the 13th and then they'll be mine! –evil laughter- For anyone who doesn't know, Kidrobot made huge figures of the band and though the first set is sold out, they have a new set coming on the 13th. Anyway, uber-thanks to everyone who reviewed, it makes me feel happy. I fiddled with the first chapter a bit, seeing as I forgot FF dot Net's weird formatting system and all.

Warning: The following pages contain chase scenes, Greek myths and a smidge of Murdoc angst.

You know the drill, this wonderful band isn't mine, but the doggy is. –sniffles- At least I still have the doggy...

* * *

Chapter 2: Of Greek Myths And Mismatched Eyes

2-D tried his hardest to sneak into Kong Studios; even though he knew that his fellow band members would learn about the dog sooner or later, he wanted to push the dogs meeting with Murdoc to the later part. He crept through the car park, holding the dog's mouth shut tight as they passed the Whinny, and was heading down the stairs to his room when he heard a door open.

"Face-ache? That you?" He froze, and thought about bolting down to his room. "Come 'ere." Murdoc's boots could be heard as he walked towards the frozen 2-D.

Not knowing what else to do, 2-D awkwardly placed his hands, the dog and all, behind his back as he turned around. "Yeah, Muds?" He asked with what he hoped was an innocent grin.

Murdoc opened his mouth to say something, but whatever he was going to tell 2-D was lost when he noticed the _something_ behind the singers back. "Wot'cha got there?" He asked, trying to get a glance at whatever the black-eyed boy before him had.

2-D shifted again, continuing to conceal the dog from the Bass Demon's prying eyes. "It's nofin'." He lied. His gaze dropped to his feet. " 'S jus' a package fer me."

"A package, eh?" The Satanist didn't sound convinced. Again, he tried to see behind the singers back, but again had no luck. "Who's it from?"

"I-I dunno." 2-D was backing carefully down the stairs now. The last thing he needed to do was take a tumble down the concrete steps. "I'll let'cha know as soon as I find out, kay?" He hoped that Murdoc would go for that, but deep down he knew that he wouldn't be let off that easily.

"Come on, Dullard, why not open it right 'ere?" Murdoc asked as he grabbed 2-D and gave him a rough noogie. There was an almost threatening tone in the Bass Demon's voice.

Caught between a rock and an almost angry Satanist, 2-D had no idea what to do. He knew he couldn't show Murdoc the dog; the bassist would flip and the dog would be back out on the streets in less than a heartbeat. That or the dog would be road kill. Neither option appealed to the singer, but he was spared from thinking about it too long because suddenly the dog leaped from his arms and ran up the stairs, past the now terrified 2-D and a stunned Murdoc.

He started forward, but 2-D stopped when Murdoc turned his mismatched eyes towards the singer in a glare. "Dullard." He said softly, his voice filled with menace, "Was that a fucking dog?"

"Muds, lemme explain!" The black-eyed singer started, but Murdoc wasn't listening. He was racing up the remaining stairs in hot pursuit of the canine.

* * *

Russel opened the door to the car park, but as he did, a light brown blur shot out past him and started towards the lift. The white-eyed drummer watched the dog for a second, blinking in confusion, and then turned back towards the car park, only to pushed aside by a very angry Murdoc.

"Get back here you fucking mutt!" Russel watched Murdoc go after the dog, even more confused then before, but again he turned his attention back to the car park, when a blue topped blur raced past him.

" 'ScusemeRussel,Murdocwait!" The jumbled sentence confused the drummer so much that he reached out and grabbed a hold of the singer.

"Okay, 'D, what's going on?" The American asked calmly.

"I found a dog 'n Mud's gonna kill it!" 2-D answered, not so calmly.

Russel scoffed. "Muds wouldn't go that far, 'D."

"The man used ta set fire ta cats, Russel." Russel blinked. What 2-D said was true, which probably meant, yeah, Murdoc was going to do some not nice things to the dog if he got a hold of it.

"Muds! Hold up!" Both the drummer and the singer raced after the Satanist.

* * *

/_This one smelt of even more sadness and of tears long since shed. His anger and hurt almost overpowered me; it felt as if his waves of pain were coursing through me as well. I glanced back at his unhappy checkered eyes, and through them saw a great, terrible pain. One that still haunted him today_./

By now the throbbing in Murdoc's head was really beginning to hurt, and his broken ribs burned with the strain of running, but he wasn't about to let his band mates know that. Nor would he let them know about the searing pain he endured every time he took a breath, or the ache that seemed like a knife driving into his brain. He did, after all, have a reputation to keep up. 'Sides, if they knew he was still hurting, they might get all concerned and touch him, or worse, try and make him go back to the hospital. /_Fuck that!_/ He thought.

He saw the dog ahead of him, heading for the lift. He grinned, showing his sharp green teeth. Now the little dog was trapped. Unless, by some strange miracle, 2-D and Russel showed up in the lift. He chuckled. He knew that wasn't a possibility, they were still behind him.

He had heard 2-D's jumbled sentence, and Russel's various commands to "hold up" or "slow down" but he had decided to ignore them both. There was no way this dog was staying in this studio, and there was no one who could save it.

Then, Noodle stepped out of the lift. The dog leaped into her arms, and Murdoc skidded to a stop, wincing at the pain that shot through him. Noodle looked down at the unkempt dog in her arms, then up at the panting Murdoc. "Murdoc-san? What's going on?"

He dog barked happily, and licked the young girls face, causing her to laugh and hug the dog tightly. Murdoc sighed. If it had been anyone else, he would have gone right over there, plucked the dog from their hands, and thrown it out the window. But if there was one thing that he wanted in the whole world, it was the Axe Princess's happiness. She was his guiding star, and if there was anything she wanted, he made sure she got it.

Not that he'd ever let her know though. The same way he hid his pain, he also hid his feelings behind a mask of irate attitudes and sarcastic remarks. He knew it wasn't really the right way to go about it, but Murdoc Niccals had never been one to follow the rules when he didn't feel like it.

So, the Bass Demon plopped down on the studio floor in front of Noodle and leaned back against the wall, lighting up another cigarette. "It's Dullard's new dog." He said as he exhaled a puff of smoke.

Noodle gave a squeal of pure, unchecked happiness, and Murdoc had to force himself not to smile. She hugged the dog tightly and started to hop around happily, and that's when Russel and 2-D showed up. Murdoc stood, and pushed past the black-eyed Butterscotch Angel. "If that mutt ever finds its way ta my Whinny, it'll be next morning's fucking sausage. Got me?"

2-D winced at the bassist's tone, but nodded. "Yeah, Muds. I unnerstand."

Murdoc blew a puff of smoke into 2-D's face. "Good." And with that, he thrust his hands into his pockets and walked over to the studio and plopped himself down on the couch. He smiled inwardly as 2-D and Noodle played with the dog, while Russel shuffled off to the kitchen to find something that the dog could eat.

"2-D-san? What's the dog's name?" Noodle asked as she ruffled the dog's floppy ears.

The singer blinked. "I dunno..." He answered with a scratch of his head.

"Bubbles!" The young Japanese girl said with a giggle. Visions of Powerpuff Girls were still running through her head.

" 'Ey, that's not bad, Noodle." 2-D said with his sunny grin.

Murdoc snorted. "Pussy name fer a dog. 'Sides," Murdoc leaned over and lifted the dog for a second, then nodded in conformation. "E's a guy."

"So, wot do we call 'im, Murdoc?" 2-D asked as the dog leaped up onto Murdoc's lap and gave the Bass Demon a lick.

"How the fuck should I know?" Murdoc said hotly as he knocked the dog off his lap back onto the floor. He turned when he saw Russel entering, and then his mouth flopped open and he almost lost his cig. "Not the whole bloody ham, Russ!" But it was too late. The ham was on the floor, and the dog was chomping it down faster then a jackrabbit on the run. Murdoc slapped his forehead and muttered several colorful curses under his breath.

"What was I s'posed to do, Muds? Have you looked at this dog? He's a stick!" Russel protested.

"Stick! We call doggy Stick!" Noodle giggled again and started scratching the dogs back.

"Styx." Murdoc corrected as a sudden flash of inspiration hit him. He took another drag on his cig. "As in the Greek Myth. The river of the dead." Everyone was looking at him with various expressions, but all of them more or less showing happiness. If Murdoc had decided to help name the dog, then it was surely staying.

"That's a cool name, Murdoc." 2-D said with a smile. He then turned his attention to the dog who was finished with the ham and was busy trying to get one of Noodle's slippers off her feet. The singer gladly joined in the game of tug-of-war that soon followed.

Murdoc watched the two playing with Styx, and his heart was gripped by a sudden pang of jealously. He envied Noodle's innocence, and 2-D's sunny optimism. He wanted so much to be like them, to not always be so cold and jaded. /_Can't be like them._/ He thought bitterly. /_Too much shit's happened to the Niccals; can't think like they do. Can't be happy..._/

Russel blinked at the sudden, twisted expression of anger and sadness that had abruptly appeared on his friend's face. "Muds, you okay?"

"Never fucking better, you ponce." Murdoc snarled as he stood and pushed his way out of the studio and back to the sanctuary of his beloved Whinny.

2-D watched the angered bassist storm out of the lounge, and his sunny smile dropped. "Russ, wot jus' 'appened?" The confused singer asked. A moment ago, things had been perfect, or at least as close to perfect as they could get. His head wasn't hurting, Murdoc hadn't been yelling; in fact; Murdoc had almost looked happy for a second. For a few seconds there had been a flicker of a smile, a genuine smile, on Murdoc's hardened features. But then that dark scowl had reappeared and now Murdoc was gone, probably headed back to the car park.

Russel sighed. "I don't know, 'D. Muds just went "Muds" on us, you know."

2-D nodded, his grin now replaced with a sad frown. He reached out to scratch Styx, but found the dog to be nowhere around. He suddenly got a prickling feeling on the back of his neck that made his hair stand on end. "Noodle, would you go find Styx, please?" He was suddenly seeing breakfast the next morning; sausages and an evilly grinning Murdoc.

"Hai, 2-D-san." As Noodle got up and skipped out of the lounge, 2-D grinned a little. If there was one person that could get to Murdoc, it was little Noodle. And it never failed either. Whenever Noodle was around, Murdoc didn't beat on 2-D, didn't drink near as much, and he even toned down the swearing a bit. 2-D guessed that it was because Noodle and Murdoc shared some sort of wondrous bond, like that of father and daughter, but even stronger. Of course, he never mentioned this to anyone; he was sure Murdoc would have his head if he even suspected that 2-D was thinking along those lines.

So, he allowed himself a small grin, one that he hid from Russel. "Go get 'im, Noodle."

* * *

Murdoc was flopped on his bed with a bottle of Stolie in one hand and a burning cigarette in the other. He was remembering, remembering the awful things he had once sworn never to remember; the awful things that still haunted his nightmares and made him wake from sleep with tears in his eyes.

He suddenly heard a sound at his door, and he furiously wiped his eyes, causing the brimming tears to vanish into the soft fabric of his shirtsleeve. "Go the fuck away, Stu-pot!" He called to the dark-eyed singer he knew was there. He waited for the pathetic protest that was sure to follow, but instead the noise just continued. "I mean it Dullard! Sod off!" The sound continued, much to Murdoc's irritation. Grumbling about sacrifices and hospitals, he reached down and picked up an empty Stolie bottle. As he staggered to the door, he raised the bottle; ready to smash it down on top of 2-D's head.

"I warned ya, Du..." Murdoc looked around, but all he saw was empty car park. Upon hearing a small whine, he looked down to see Styx at his feet, tail wagging, head tilted, and tongue lolling out as it always did.

The Satanist glared at his little visitor. "Get the fuck outta 'ere mutt." He snarled. He slammed the door and turned to go back to his bedroom, when he heard the scratching again. Growling in irritation, he threw to door open and aimed a kick at the dog on his doorstep.

Styx narrowly missed getting hit with Murdoc's boot, and he dashed away around behind the Whinny with a startled yelp. Murdoc grinned in satisfaction, his sharpened teeth in a vicious smile. He closed the door and made his way back to the bedroom.

"Wot the...!" Curled up on Murdoc's bed was the sleeping form of Styx. Murdoc looked around, wondering how on earth the dog could have possibly gotten in, and that's when he noticed that he had left the back window open. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed the sleepy dog and held him up at eye level. "All right, mutt. Ya can stay in the studios, but'cher not stayin' 'ere. Got me?"

Styx tilted his head even further and gave Murdoc's face a lick. Murdoc glared and was about to start yelling at the dog, when he noticed something. As he looked into the dog's eyes, he saw that they were not unlike his own, mismatched and different. The iris on the left was green, while the one on the right was blue. "That why you're alone, mutt?" he asked softly.

Murdoc's own red and black eyes had labeled him a 'freak' among the rest of the world, even to his own father. Those jeers, those bruises and all that blood had helped to shape his cold rock star image. But they had also helped shape the trembling, lonely, forlorn Murdoc Niccals that no one ever saw, and who never came out except for nights like this when his darkest, most painful memories resurfaced and tore at his soul, thirsty for blood and tears.

As he continued to look at Styx, there were scars that he could plainly see now, along the muzzle and around the green and blue eyes themselves. Styx had been beaten by whoever had him last. Murdoc looked at the thin, beaten dog with the same dissimilar eyes, the same shitty past, and he saw the difference between the two. There was a sparkle in Styx's eyes, a shimmer of happiness and hope, of unconditional love for everyone and everything. It reminded him of someone.

Murdoc, still holding the dog, sat on his bed and lay down on his back, staring at the ceiling. Styx moved from Murdoc's hands to right beside the bassist, resting his head on Murdoc's stomach. With a sigh, Murdoc set his hand on the top of the dog's head and he idly began to scratch behind the dog's ears. In his minds eye, he could still see Styx's bright and happy eyes, even though the dog had obviously gone through so much pain.

"How do you fuckwits do it?"


	3. Of Music And Breakfast

A/N: Woot! 'Nother chapter up. Anyway, folks, as I said earlier some of this story was written a few years ago, but I stopped after ff dot net closed down the band section. Well, this is the chapter I was working on when I stopped, so if you notice a change in the style or whatever, this is the reason. Also, because I wrote this a few years ago Cortez wasn't in the picture, and because I really don't want to go back and try and write him in, just pretend that Murdoc's raven is migrating or something. -sheepish smile-

Thanks for all the reviews! And BoredCoed, I'll be expecting my cookies. -grins-

Be on the lookout for ninja abilities, singing and slightly burnt scrambled eggs.

You all know the drill. Gorillaz aren't mine, but little Styx is.

* * *

Chapter 3: Of Music And Breakfast

Noodle quietly pushed open the car park door, using all her 'ninja stealth' abilities to remain hidden. "Styx-chan?" She called softly. She quietly walked between the cars, sneaking up on the dark Winnebago shaped shadow that she knew harbored a very grumpy Murdoc, but hopefully did not harbor 2-D's new friend. As she sneaked along the wall of the Whinny, she heard a dejected sigh from inside and heard Murdoc muttering softy. She looked up and saw an open window that lead to the back end of the Whinny, Murdoc's bedroom.

Before he could tell she was there, she snuck around to the front and silently slid into the driver's seat. She peeked over the edge of the upholstery, trying to get a glimpse of the back room without getting caught, but she still couldn't see into Murdoc's ever-elusive bedroom. So she crept back out and went back to the window. From her previous trips to Murdoc's place, she knew that the window was directly above the bed, and that the brooding bassist couldn't see it as long as he wasn't facing the back wall.

So, she pushed over a large crate from the depths of the car park and she stood on her tiptoes, and she could finally see the Bass Demon. And what she saw surprised her.

Murdoc was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Well, through it actually. His body may have been in the Whinny, but his thoughts were far away, far far away, and probably long ago as well. Noodle could have walked right in and Murdoc wouldn't have noticed. And curled up next to the Satanist, Styx was asleep, or close enough to it. His head was lying on Murdoc's stomach, and Murdoc was lazily petting the sleepy dog.

Noodle couldn't believe that only a half an hour ago the bassist had been threatening to turn the dog into sausages. She smiled, and suppressed a giggle. She knew that Murdoc was mostly hot air, and didn't mean half of the things he spouted off. She was glad that Murdoc liked Styx, because that probably meant that the dog would be staying for a long time, maybe even the rest of its life. And maybe, did she dare to dream, the dog would help Murdoc in other ways. She had read many reports about dogs helping people and even changing someone's whole personality for the better.

She looked back down at the two, and noticed something else. Murdoc had tears in his eyes. The young guitarist wanted very much to drop on him right now, to give him a hug, to make those tears disappear, but she knew he would be furious is he found out she had been spying on him. So, she gave a little sigh, and prepared to leave and tell 2-D that everything was okay. She wouldn't go into detail, but she'd let the singer know that everything was going to be fine.

Before she hopped off her crate, she heard a small whine. Returning to the window, she saw that Styx had now climbed up on Murdoc's chest, and was licking the bassist's tears.

"Ey! Knock that off, mutt!" Murdoc sat up, sending the dog tumbling to the floor.

Murdoc leaped off the bed. "You okay?" He gently picked up Styx, though the fall did not seem to have affected the dog at all. He still struggled against Murdoc's grip, trying to lick the Satanist's face again.

With a sigh and a small smile, Murdoc sat back down on the bed and gave into the barrage of licks. He lit up another cigarette and watched the smoke circle up towards the ceiling, and he suddenly wanted out of the Whinny. He felt a sudden urge to go to the studio and to play his bass; play his bass long and hard until all feeling melted away, leaving only him, music and peace.

So, he stood and grinned a snaggle-toothed grin at Styx. "Let's get the fuck outta 'ere, mutt." The dog did what he always did. He cocked his head a bit, and his tail started to wag. With a chuckle, Murdoc set his half finished bottle of Stolie on the end table next to his bed and started for the door.

Meanwhile, outside the Whinny, Noodle hopped down off her crate and she raced to return it. As she stayed hidden in the shadows of the darkened car park, she watched Murdoc exit the Winnebago with Styx, and she heard the clicking of his boots as he walked up the stairs and re-entered the studios.

Only then did she remove herself from the shadows and return to the studio's lounge where she expected to find 2-D and Russel, but when she entered, the Butterscotch Angel was nowhere to be seen. "Russel-san, where's 2-D-san?"

"He went to the studio to practice some keys." Russel said without even looking up from his magazine.

Noodle nodded and started to wander towards the studio, debating about grabbing her Les Paul so that she'd have an actual reason to be in the studios, but she didn't feel like practicing. She felt like listening.

* * *

2-D was busy practicing some melodies on his keyboard when the door to the studio opened and a light brown blur leaped into his lap and began to cover his dark-eyed face with licks. "Styx! 'Ey dere, where ya been? Did Noodle find ya?"

"Nope. I did." 2-D almost leaped to his feet in surprise as Murdoc entered, tuning his red-fade-to-black bass with a satisfied grin on his face.

"Oh…….. 'N where was 'e...?" The singer tentatively asked, trying to act indifferent by flipping through his sheet music with a forged, uninterested air about him.

Murdoc opened his mouth, then hesitated for a split second. " 'E was in the... kitchen. Yeah, the little mutt was in the fucking kitchen." The bassist hoped that the singer would accept the little white lie, and much to his hidden relief, 2-D did.

"Oh." Silence descended and 2-D flipped another sheet of music. "I was jus' practicin' a bit wif me keys."

"Mind if I join ya?" Murdoc asked as he took another drag on his cigarette.

2-D's jaw dropped a fraction of an inch, but he recovered quickly. "Yeah. Sure. I mean, no- I mean, I dun mind if ya practice wif me. I could use the company." He broke into one of his happiest grins yet. He was touched that the Bass Demon would ask to practice with him, because normally Murdoc liked to play and practice alone. Unless the whole band was doing some practice sessions together, Murdoc usually preferred to play by himself as much as possible in the seclusion of his Whinny.

"Great." Murdoc said as he idly plucked the first few notes to Slow Country, then turned to 2-D with his snaggle-toothed grin.

2-D returned the grin, and played the next few notes. As Murdoc joined in, the Butterscotch Angel began to sing.

"Can't stand yer loneliness... can't stand ye loneliness..."

The two were in perfect harmony, and together they had never sounded better. From her hiding place behind the amps, Noodle held her breath as their magic wafted through the room, enchanting all who were blessed enough to hear it that night. She wrapped her arms around Styx and snuggled him. She knew the dog was good luck, she had known it all along; this just proved it. "Arigatou, Styx-chan..."

/_She was captivated by their magic, as I was, but for different reason I'm sure. She was captivated by their sound, they way they blended together; years of hopes and dreams flooding from the amps that she hid behind in a wave of emotion, and I was entranced by what it meant. As they played together, there was something else in the air around them. An unspoken sentiment that they both shared, the Bass Demon and the Butterscotch Angel, for their sound tonight carried with it the unspoken ambiance of a friendship forged of unlikely circumstances, a friendship that they never spoke of, but that they both knew was there_./

* * *

The two played long into the night, so late that Noodle soon fell asleep from utter exhaustion. They finally stopped somewhere around 4 AM when 2-D had finally looked down at his watch.

"Muds, it's 4 inna mornin'." He said with a sleepy yawn.

"Shh! Listen fer a sec..." Murdoc held up a hand. "Ya 'ear that, Stu-pot?"

The soft sound of a sleeping child could be heard in the now quiet studio. 2-D and Murdoc headed over towards the amp, and there they saw Noodle curled up around Styx, who looked up at them with his same, lopsided grin, but didn't move for fear of waking the girl beside him.

2-D grinned and whispered, "How long do ya fink she's been there?"

"This whole fucking time, I'd wager. Little Miss Ninja over 'ere musta snuck in when I opened the bloody door." Murdoc hid his grin by shaking his head. He bent down and gently scooped her up. "Silly little Wasabi misfit, you'll get nightmares listenin' ta the likes a us."

"Will you take 'er upstairs, Murdoc? I'll clean up down 'ere." 2-D whispered as he started to put the equipment back where it had come from.

"Yeah, sure, Stu-pot." Easing the door open with his foot, being careful not to wake the Axe Princess in his arms, Murdoc left the studio. He carried Noodle to the lift, then up to her room, where he gently placed her on the bed.

He watched with a smile and a silent shake of his head as she rolled over, her small arms falling over, then grasping her assortment of Powerpuff Girl and Pokemon plushies. Her eyes fluttered behind closed eyelids, telling Murdoc that Noodle was dreaming. "Have fun, luv."

Murdoc watched for a moment more, making sure she was asleep and not just faking to stay up late, then turned and quietly closed her door behind him. He thought about just heading back to the Whinny, but instead he found himself back in the studio where 2-D was still cleaning. Wordlessly he helped the singer straighten up, and when the job was done, they both ventured to the car park for some much needed sleep.

"G'night, Tosser." Murdoc called, not unkindly, as he opened the door to his Winnebago.

2-D was in some kind of mental shock. Muds _never_ said good night to _anyone_, let alone the blue haired singer. Not knowing how to react, 2-D said the first thing that came to his mind. "Night, Murdoc." And with that the Bass Demon retreated into his dark abode, leaving 2-D and Styx alone in the car park. 2-D looked down at the floppy eared dog at his feet uncertainly. Murdoc sure had been acting strange since Styx's arrival. "Did you...?" 2-D stopped, realizing the absurdity of the idea. "Never mind. Let's go ta bed."

* * *

In the morning 2-D was woken in the usual method; his digital 80's alarm clock blaring the morning weather in his ear, and as he hastened to turn the bugger off, he whacked his head on the bedside lamp, got tangled in his sheets, and kissed his floor with an undignified thump! Untangling himself from the sheets and shutting up the blasted alarm, 2-D scratched his head and rubbed the sleep from his onyx eyes, wondering what the day would bring. Perhaps he could get started on the lyrics for the new single that Muds wanted by- A little red flag suddenly popped into 2-D's brain. There was something, something important, that had to do with Murdoc and... and what? His brain couldn't quite remember.

With a yawn 2-D changed and began the process of climbing up the concrete steps to the car park, still wondering what the little red flag wanted. He paused outside Murdoc's Whinny and noted that it was silent, which usually meant (considering the time of day) that Murdoc was still passed out and snoozing. It was then that he smelt breakfast, or what he assumed to be breakfast, and it smelled good.

He was going to rap on Murdoc's door and inform the Satanist that breakfast was ready, when he stopped, another red flag joining the first. The Whinny. There was something about the Whinny. As hard as 2-D tried, he couldn't get his brain to connect the dots, so he figured he'd just bag it. Muds probably didn't want sausage anyway. Sausage. A third red flag joined its buddies and the dots connected in the span of a second.

Styx was gone.

2-D pounded on Murdoc's Whinny. "Muds! Muds, ya in 'ere?" There were no cruses, threats or even groans; the Whinny was silent. Murdoc wasn't in there.

The Butterscotch Angel flew to the kitchen, bursting through the door only to find the Bass Demon at the stove, completely clothed (which was a miracle in itself) sporting a fresh white bandage around his temple, and cooking something by the smell of it. "Muds!" Murdoc jumped at the sudden noise. "Wot 'r you doin'? Where's Styx? Wot's dat yer cookin'? Shit, Muds, whaddid ya do?"

Murdoc silenced the singer by smacking him with a slightly goopy spatula. "Calm down, face ache, yer dog's right 'ere." Styx leaped into 2-D's relieved arms and the dog proceeded to cover him with licks and bacon breath, effectively cleaning the singer's face of half cooked pancake.

2-D breathed a sigh of relief as he buried his face in the dog's fur. "Fank 'eaven yer all right, Styx, I was worried sick abou' you." The dog licked the singer's face in response.

The Bass Demon hid small smile as he flipped a flapjack. There was something about 2-D's smiles, something that made him feel... happy, in a way. /_Good to know there's still innocence in the world..._/ "Get the orange juice, Dullard."

Setting Styx down, 2-D opened the fridge and jumbled around for the jug. "So, wot's the occasion, Murdoc?"

Forgetting himself momentarily, the Satanist looked over his shoulder with a confused expression. "Huh?" Then, quickly composing himself, his brain scrambled for an acceptable reason. "Oh, err, it's... uh... the anniversary of... the, uh... day I thought abou' startin' a band!" He smirked. "Yeah, that's it."

The singer grinned, completely oblivious to the little white lie. "Oh, okay. Dat's cool."

A plate of pancakes, slightly burnt scrambled eggs, and dry toast introduced itself to the section of table right in front of 2-D. "Eat."

The singer happily obliged as Noodle entered the kitchen, stretching. She went straight for the cabinet where the cereal was kept, but Murdoc plucked her up and plopped her into a chair. "Not today, ya little Wasabi misfit. Yer havin' some _real_ breakfast, not those sugar coated sugar balls or whatever the fuck it is you 'n Dullard eat."

"Lucky Charms." The Japanese girl protested. The plate of 'real breakfast' was dropped in front of her and this presented a problem for her. She knew that 2-D wouldn't make something like this; he would have much preferred to join her in a bow of cereal or some cookies, and Russel wasn't up yet, so the only other person there that could have made this was... She looked over at the Bass Demon who had already turned around and began making a plate for either himself or the drummer. "Arigatou, Murdoc-san." A grunt was her only reply.

It was then that Russel emerged from the hall, still in his fuzzy slippers. Yawning, the drummer noticed the fresh bandage around Murdoc's head. "You okay?" Murdoc merely grunted at Russel. Before he could even cross the room a heaping plate was thrust at him. Dumbfounded, the big American took the food and sat, his brain working to connect the dots. Finally, when he reached the conclusion that _Murdoc_ had actually made the breakfast he looked at the food suspiciously. "S'it poisoned?"

"No." Murdoc dropped into his regular seat, took a swig of beer, and bit into a strip of bacon.

Russel still couldn't believe it. "Muds, you feelin' alright?"

Another grunt.

"It's the band's anniversary... wait, no... it's the day the band dat 'e wanted ta be in... the band 'e wanted to 'ave an anniversary for... uh... somefin'." The Butterscotch Angel gave a grin and passed a pancake down to the dog, who inhaled it.

The drummer decided to drop the subject, as well as a piece of toast, which Styx made short work of. 2-D, Russel and Noodle made small talk as they discussed the day's plan, and while Murdoc only grunted when anyone asked his opinion, it meant a lot to the group. Normally the bassist skipped breakfast all together, or ate it in the seclusion of his Whinny. The fact that he was out _here_, with _them_, eating breakfast that _he_ _made_, was still strange and shocking to them.


	4. Of Pain And Breaking China

A/N: At last, meaning to the title! I bet you're all wondering about it, and finally the answer has come! -Sounds trumpets-

A major thanks to all my reviewers, Bravewolf, Kimmy-sama, Shepyt, Vilsy-chan, BoredCoed (I got a cookie! Yay!), Danakagome, Jade, Invader Blade, WhoDidn'tKillBambi, Venny, Yomiori-Wolfdemon (Thanks for the cake by the way, it was delicious!) and Xiao-Darkcloud! You guys have no idea how much your words inspire me to write. -Hugs all!-

Caution! Falling bassists, armature medical examinations, and plate abuse.

Gorillaz aren't mine, but Styx and the rival band are. Not that I really _like_ the rival band, but, eh.

* * *

Chapter 4: Of Pain And Breaking China

About a half hour into their lovely breakfast meal a loud banging sounded through the building. "Buggery fuck." Murdoc growled as he rose and went to the front door. Expecting to see some lost tourist or perhaps the milkman, Murdoc opened the door with a growl. "Go the fu-" An acoustic guitar was broken over his head.

The Bass Demon staggered backward, pain exploding behind his eyes, but he struck out blindly with his Cuban heels, catching his assailant in the stomach. "Shit!" Murdoc was only semi-surprised that he knew that voice; Damien, Lee's brother and the guitarist of their crappy band.

"We're gonna kick yer ass, Murdoc." Clayton, the drummer, growled as he shoved past Damien, who was still trying to catch his breath, with a wooden baseball bat in hand.

"Jus' try it, ya bastards." Murdoc ducked the first swing and his fist made contact with Clayton's jaw, spraying spittle and blood.

The broken end of the guitar smashed into Murdoc's chest, dropping the Satanist to his knees, and Damien glowered down at him. "Worthless bastard." He snarled as he raised the broken guitar again.

A brown blur leaped from the studio's door and latched down upon Damien's hand, the long canine teeth slicing through the guitarist's skin and muscles. Dropping the guitar, Damien screamed as he tore the dog from his hand, tearing flesh and showering hot blood. Throwing the dog to the ground, the guitarist aimed a kick at Styx, but both he and Clayton could hear 2-D and the other band members approaching. Clayton grabbed his bleeding band mate and the two tore off across the property back to their car.

"Wot's goin'- Murdoc! Wot 'appened?" 2-D dropped to his knees before the bassist. "Are you okay? Lemme see."

The Satanist shoved 2-D feebly. "Sod off, Tosser." He tried to growl, but it sounded a lot weaker then he would have liked. He tasted blood and his head and chest were screaming; he wasn't sure he could stand, even if he wanted too.

Russel and Noodle appeared at the door. "Muds, what 'appened?"

"Man, Russel, wot the fuck 'r you thinkin', you ponce! Get Noodle outta'ere." Murdoc didn't want the little girl to see the surprisingly large amount of blood that littered the front steps. The American hesitated only a second before scooping up the small child, much to her protesting, and taking her back into the studios.

2-D, still on his knees, turned Murdoc's head to get a better view of the bassist's temple. "Muds, yer bleedin'!"

The Bass Demon hurt too much to roll his eyes, let alone stop the singer from touching him. "Bravo, brain ache, the world is now enlightened."

Styx walked up to them, tail wagging, and began sniffing Murdoc, much to the Satanist's displeasure. Finally, having enough TLC after the dog began licking the blood from his face, Murdoc tried to stand. "Sod off, the lot 'a you." Suddenly the world flipped over on itself and the bassist found that he was about to meet the ground in a most painful way until 2-D grabbed him and helped him stay upright.

"Murdoc, ya shouldn't be movin' 'round. You should be goin' ta the hospi'al."

"Fuck that. I'd rather bite me tongue off 'n bleed ta death." At this the bassist began coughing, sending a few red splatters down to the ground.

2-D went a little paler. "Muds, yer coughin' up blood! Dat's not good. In fact, I fink's it's bad!"

"It's fine." Murdoc growled. He fought to keep his vision from swimming. He was going to kill those stupid gits when he saw them next.

"What's fine?" Russel returned to the front porch after having dropped Noodle off in the kitchen.

"Nofing's fine! 'E's coughin' up blood Russ, dat's not good, right?"

"It's fine!"

"That's not fine, Muds! You could be bleedin' internally."

Murdoc shook his head at his two concerned band mates and found that made him dizzy. How strange. It was as if the very ground he stood on was stealing his strength. Only a few seconds before he had been standing more or less on his own, and now he found that he had to rest heavily against 2-D. Plus, it was taking more and more effort to keep his eyes open. "Bit me tongue."

Russel wasn't convinced. The Bass Demon would probably rather bleed to death slowly than admit he needed help. "Prove it."

The Satanist's mouth opened a fraction and his tongue flopped out, dripping blood from a nice little tear on the side. Satisfied, Russel took Murdoc's other arm. "Can you walk?"

"A'course I can walk." The bassist sneered.

" 'E can't." 2-D said when Russel glanced over at the singer.

"Let's get you inside, Muds." The big American sighed as he and 2-D half carried, half dragged their wounded band mate over to the couch in the lounge. Once Murdoc was situated comfortably (or at least as comfortably as he could be, all things considered) Russel looked the bass player up and down. "Now, what happened, Muds?"

Murdoc tried to prop himself up on his elbow, failed miserably, and sighed. "Damien 'n Clayton, probably gettin' back at me fer wot I did ta Lee."

Russel sighed. He knew the rival band would try and get back at the Satanist, but he never imagined it would go this far. What the hell was wrong with all these British musicians? Beating the snot out of each other and sending one another to the hospital... Russel shook his head. The big American's attention was suddenly snagged by 2-D, who was tugging on his shirtsleeve. "Russ, 'e's bleeding from the temple again. Should we take 'im to a doctor?"

"Hell no!"

Ignoring the outburst, Russel thought for a moment. "I'm more concerned about 'is already broken ribs. One coulda snapped off 'n punctured somethin', ya know?"

"I'm fine!"

"Wot should we do, Russ?" 2-D looked at the drummer anxiously.

The American sighed. "No way around it, D, we're gonna have to check his ribs."

The singer looked hesitant. "Won't it 'urt 'im?"

Glancing down at Murdoc, Russel sighed. "Seeing as he won't go to the hospital, we don't have much choice, if we want to make sure he's okay."

After a few minutes with a very uncooperative Murdoc, the two had finally managed to get the bassist's shirt off. The bandages around his chest were clean, unlike the bandage around his head, and they couldn't see any lumps or abnormalities that would indicate something wrong. "See." The Satanist growled, not liking being picked over by Russel and 2-D. "It's fine. Now leave me alone, lard ass."

Russel glared down at the bassist. "You're gonna hafta do it, 'D. I can't guarantee I won't strangle 'im."

"Ch. You 'n wot army?"

"Russ, I can't!"

Choosing to ignore the always instigative Murdoc, Russel focused more on the shaken 2-D. "Sure you can, 'D. You have too."

Gingerly 2-D placed his hands on Murdoc's chest and pressed down, feeling the older man's ribs. Carefully, he made his way down, making sure there wasn't a gap in the sequence or anything else that might indicate trouble. "Jus' lemme know if I'm 'urtin' ya, Muds." 2-D said.

"Lookin' at'cher face 'urts me, Tosser." Murdoc hissed through clenched teeth. Shit, but his chest was burning. /_Why the bloody hell's it 'urting now? A fucking guitar was broken over me 'ead 'n it didn't 'urt 'alf as much fer Satan's sake/_ It was the adrenaline, or rather the lack thereof, that was making the bassist feel like he was going to die. Now that the threat of attack was gone, his body was free to calm down, relax, and focus all it's energy on pain, agony and general hurting.

"I don't fink anyfing's broken." 2-D said, looking up at Russel after finishing his amateur examination.

Murdoc would have liked to make some sort of crack about 2-D's face being broken, but as it was, it took too much effort to keep his eyes open, let alone fire off some smart-ass comment. He tried to follow Russel's and 2-D's conversation about hospitals and cheese (or whatever it was they were saying), but everything sounded like he was underwater, and the more he tried to stay awake, the sleepier he became, until it was all just too much for him and soon he gave up and sank peacefully into unconsciousness.

Noodle came into the room, Styx in her arms. "Is Murdoc-san okay?"

2-D tried his best to smile. " 'E's gonna be jus' fine, luv. 'E's sleepin' now but 'e'll be better inna mornin'."

The young guitarist crossed the room and stood next to the unconscious bass player and planted a little kiss on his cheek. "Oyasumi (1), Murdoc-san." She whispered. Then she held Styx out and the scruffy dog gave the bassist a lick, and in his sleep Murdoc smiled.

* * *

For the remainder of the day 2-D fretted and worried about his hurt band mate, and though he tried to be cheerful when the others were around, they could all see that 2-D wasn't quite himself. Even Styx seemed to notice it, and 2-D's darkened mood seemed to be rubbing off on the dog, as the usually hyper little mutt was now listless and often went back to the studio couch to check on the still unconscious Murdoc.

As evening rolled around Noodle had finally had enough. She went into the studio, gathered up Styx in her arms and went to grab 2-D. She found the singer in his room, flopped languidly on the bed scribbling on a scrap of paper, burning cig dangling from his lips. "2-D-san?"

2-D looked over and cracked a smile, jamming the mostly spent cigarette into an ashtray on his nightstand. "Ey, luv. Whassamatter?"

Letting the dog go, Noodle grabbed the singer's thin arm and tugged. "Come outside! I want to show you a happy place."

"Noodle, 'm not really inna-"

"_Please_?" The guitarist gave another beseeching tug and 2-D couldn't help but give in.

"All right." He stood and Noodle practically dragged him out of his room and up the stairs, with Styx right at his heels. They crossed through the car park and out into the cemetery. "Noodle, luv, where we going?" He asked after nearly tripping over a half buried grave marker.

"2-D-san's special place!" It took 2-D a moment to realize that Noodle meant the golden valley where he had found Styx. The dog at his heels barked happily, as if he too had realized where they were going.

/_We were back at the place. The place that 2-D wanted so badly to share with a friend. I could sense his unhappiness and his fear. They clung to him with fingers like knives and every prick they made on his pale skin was another bolt of dread and uneasiness. I glared momentarily at the figurative demons sitting on the young man's shoulders as they whispered of woe and misery_./

Standing at his special spot, bathed in the warm glow of the sunshine, 2-D couldn't help but smile a bit, though the heavy weight of trepidation was still looming over him. Noodle tugged his shirt again and when he looked down at her she proudly held up a china plate and a marker. "Wot's dis, love?"

"It is a tradition in Japan, 2-D-san. When one is feeling angry or upset they write what is making them feel bad on a plate and then they break it." She smiled. "It is a metaphorical way of killing your problems, no? By writing them on a plate, you are transferring the negative energy and then by breaking it, you are releasing the negative energy so that it cannot bother you anymore." She paused and thought for a moment. "I think it works well for things that make us sad, too."

The singer took the small plate and looked it over. /_Write me problems onna plate, break the plate, 'n problems go away._/ It seemed simple enough for 2-D, though he wondered if one plate would be enough to hold all his current problems. Taking the permanent marker from Noodle he sat on the grassy rise and began to ponder what he should write on the plate's face.

/_Lessee... problem number one... Murdoc bein' 'urt_./ So, 2-D scrawled 'Hurt Murdoc' on the top of the plate. /_Problem number two... I don't fink dere's anymore milk left inna kitchen..._/ 'No Milk' was written under 'Hurt Murdoc'. 2-D grinned. This was easier than he thought, and it seemed to be working already. /_Problem number free... well, Damien 'n Clayton... 'n Lee too, I s'pose..._/ The rival band was inscribed onto the plate. _/'N... oh! Dat evil telemarketer lady who keeps callin', 'n dat one magazine guy who said I wassa pansy, 'n I'm almost outta pills 'n does stupid zombies keep comin' back…_/

Noodle watched as 2-D happily filled the plate with random problems, everything from Murdoc being hurt to the cable going out during his favorite part in some zombie movie and when the plate was covered front and back with the singer's almost completely illegible handwriting, the young girl pulled out her own small plate, that had her own (though far less 'random') problems.

2-D stole a quick glance and saw that there were only two things written, and he figured one had to do with Murdoc and the other with Lee, Damien and Clayton. He had to smile at her almost empty plate. Seemed that the young guitarist worried over very few things. That or she broke these plates often.

"Are you ready, 2-D-san?" The singer nodded. "Then, just throw your plate and watch it break!" Noodle threw her plate much like a Frisbee, and the small chunk of china went sailing out into the valley, drooping quickly because of the weight, until it crashed on some rocks, her problems breaking into a hundred pieces.

2-D followed her example, flinging his own plate in a Frisbee-like fashion and when his crashed on the rocks, a great weight seemed to be lifted off his shoulders, as though all the worries and the pain written on that slim piece of china had shattered with the sounds of breaking plates, and he smiled. At his feet, sensing his happiness, Styx barked and wagged his tail.

"Dat was incre'ible, Noodle!" He said as the guitarist bent down and picked up the ever squirming dog.

"I am glad it helped you, 2-D-san." She smiled and the sun was suddenly caught between the two mountain peaks, drowning the valley in golden light. Noodle inhaled sharply. "Utsukushii...(2)" she whispered as she held the dog tighter. She leaned against the tall singer. "Gomen nasai (3), 2-D-san... I had forgotten how beautiful this place is..."

They stayed there for a few more minutes, until the sun had set and the orange had bleed from the sky. "Let's go inside, luv, 'n see if Murdoc's doin' any better."

As the three wandered back through the cemetery 2-D just had to ask, "So, Noodle, you frow dose plates often?"

The young guitarist nodded. "Usually from the kitchen window out into the landfill."

/_So dat's why dere's never any plates inna kitchen... makes sense.../_

_

* * *

_

(1)-Goodnight (2)-Beautiful (3)-I'm sorry


	5. Of Silence And Family

A/N: Ah, chapter five. The turning point. I want everyone to know that everything in these next 6 pages are purely speculation, and if you have a different idea about the past, kudos to you, have a cookie, just please don't bash my thoughts. As always, thank you to my reviews, this story would be long dead if it wasn't for you. Extra special thanks to Yomiori Wolfdemon for the couch and the lovely e-mail. Really made me feel special. Oh, and to Kimmy-Sama and BoredCoed, nope, sorry no hidden references (at least that I consciously put in there) in the last chapter, though I can see where you'd think that.

Be cautious of early morning chats, random confessions and more plate abuse. You know, one of these days those plates are going to assassinate me...

Gorillaz aren't mine, as Jamie and Damon have yet to return my calls, but I do own Styx.

* * *

Chapter 5: Of Silence And Family

For the first time in a very, very long time (too long for 2-D to recall properly, though the man's memory was nothing if not... sporadic) 2-D woke up before his alarm clock could jar him out of bed and ultimately, in his struggle to shut the damned thing off, cause him unnecessary pain. He sat up and idly scratched the dog that lay by his side. Styx took the small scratching as an invitation to leap up onto the singer's chest and completely douse the blue haired man with licks and saliva.

" 'Ey, 'ey, Styx, easy!" 2-D laughed as he struggled to get out from under the dog's tongue. "Calm down, now, ya jus' saw me last night. S'not like we been apart fer years or somfing." The dog stopped his licks to look at the singer and tilt his head, and there was something in his eyes that clearly told 2-D that he was happy that the singer had risen. /_Hard ta be mad at someone who misses ya when yer asleep..._/ Grinning, 2-D swung his long legs over the side of his bed. "Let's go get somefin' to eat, 'ey?" Styx leapt from the bed and barked happily.

At the car park's door 2-D hesitated. Kneeling in front of the dog, 2-D took the furry head in his hands and looked Styx square in his mismatched eyes. "Now, Styx, ya gotsta promise if I open the door yer not gonna go runnin' inta the studio 'n wakin' Murdoc up, 'cause den he's gonna get all grumpy 'n mean 'n he'll start swearin' 'n drinkin' 'n he needs 'is rest, ya unnerstand?" The dog tilted his head, his tongue lolling out as it always did. "Good. S'long as we unnerstand each ofer."

And with that the blue haired singer opened the car park's door... and Styx dashed through the opening, making a break for the studio. "Styx! Wait a minute! We 'ad a deal!" 2-D futilely chased the dog in an attempt to catch the hyper ball of fur before he...

"BLOODY HELL!"

...leapt on the Satanist and woke him up. 2-D cringed as he slunk into the studio like a child who knew he was going to get yelled at. "Sorry, Murdoc, I tried ta stop 'im but 'e-"

Murdoc was unable to talk because not only had Styx forced any and all remaining air out of his lungs when he had landed on him, but the little dog was also covering his face with enough licks to last a lifetime and the bassist growled something that 2-D assumed was along the lines of "Get this fucking dog offa me, 'e's breakin' me ribs!"

Mindful of the aching bassist, 2-D managed to scoop Styx into his arms before the dog could do any further damage to Murdoc's pride. "Like I said, I'm sorry Murdoc, but 'e jus' went shootin' down the hallway 'n I couldn't catch 'im 'n-"

"Tosser," Murdoc growled, eyeing the clock behind 2-D, "you 'ave _any_ idea wot time it is?"

The singer blinked then slowly looked over his shoulder. "Six inna mornin'..."

"Right. Wot the bloody 'ell 'r you doin' up at six inna mornin', 'ey?" With much more effort than it should have taken, Murdoc rose into sitting position and without even thinking about it (for if he had been more awake, he surely wouldn't have done such a blatantly friendly gesture) patted the couch in an invitation for 2-D to take a seat. "You know the other's ain't gonna be up fer another 'our 'r two at least." He aimed a mild glare at Styx. " 'N I wouldn't 'ave minded another 'our 'r two a sleep either."

Styx tilted his head and gave Murdoc his most cheerful doggy smile.

Setting the dog on the ground 2-D sat on the couch and was quickly joined by Styx who flopped across 2-D's lap and began begging for a belly rub. Granting the dog's wish, 2-D began to rub Styx's belly as he pondered Murdoc's question. Why had he gotten up so early? It hadn't been nightmares (2-D often woke up in the middle of the night, terrified by realistic dreams involving zombies, vampires and a host of other unfriendly things) and it hadn't been hunger...

The dog in his lap barked and the answer came flying back into 2-D's slightly damaged (though still very pretty) head. He looked over at Murdoc, giving the older man a once over. "I was worried abou' ya. Yer all right, yeah?"

Though the sentiment surprised him, Murdoc hid it behind a bored expression. "Yeah, I'm fine." He muttered. The bassist pulled out a cigarette and lit it and 2-D followed his example. " 'M always fine."

2-D glanced at the older man from the corner of his eye. /_Yer not fine, Muds. Yer never fine. Dere's always sadness in yer eyes, 'n you 'ardly smile 'n I 'eard you cryin' once... Somefing bad 'appened... I know it..._/

A silence descended upon the two, though it was not an awkward silence, but rather, a solemn one. It grew deafening and 2-D found himself searching desperately for a topic with which to frighten away the silence. Something harmless, like, perhaps the weather or that new movie coming out tomorrow or maybe even the zombie movie marathon that was coming up soon. Yes, a nice harmless topic like, "Murdoc... why'sit yer always so sad?"

Wait... WHAT? 2-D played back what he had just heard himself say inside his head over and over again, trying to make sense of the nine syllables that had wormed their way out of his mouth. Where in the bloody hell had that come from? His eyes slid over to gauge Murdoc's expression. It was blank, and that was bad. A blank expression meant that the Satanist could be thinking about anything; he could be pondering the question (which 2-D highly doubted) or thinking of fun and painful ways in which to kill 2-D and fry up his new pet for breakfast. 2-D decided the best possible way to avoid further incurring Murdoc's wrath was to change the subject and fast. Quickly filing through the list he'd been composing before his prying question, the singer settled on the zombie movie marathon.

Though his face was expressionless, Murdoc's mind was in turmoil. Having never before been presented with this scenario the bassist didn't know how to respond. Should he be angry that 2-D had tried to pry into his thoughts? Should he be grateful that he cared? Murdoc tried to sort his thoughts and forget about what he _should_ feel and focus on what he _did_ feel, but that was no good; he couldn't tell exactly. Well, he figured that he obviously needed to respond, but didn't know if he should ignore the question and pretend that it was never asked, or lie, or maybe perhaps tell the truth or just clobber 2-D and leave it at that? Murdoc liked that last option; talking (hell, _thinking_) about his past was something he hardly did (though the bassist would never admit it, it was because it hurt him) and he most certainly wasn't going to tell the onyx-eyed singer sitting next him. Having settled on the idea of clobbering 2-D, Murdoc opened his mouth to inform the singer that he had a three second head start.

"I made me mum kill 'erself."

Yet, somehow his lips and vocal chords had conspired against him and said the seven syllables he had wanted to avoid. The truth. Murdoc did a quick systems check. Everything seemed to be in working order; he was thinking, breathing, and there was even a slight itch on his leg that he was tempted to scratch, but somehow there had been some miscommunication between his brain and his vocal chords. It seemed his too-often ignored heart had decided to cheat this time around and had bribed his voice to say things it shouldn't.

Despite his often childish and naive nature, 2-D correctly suspected that he had wandered into a very touchy, dark subject, and that evacuation was the best option. It was a miracle he was still conscious; he'd been expecting Murdoc to beat the crap out of him for bringing up the subject in the first place. Though he was infinitely curious about Murdoc's response, he knew that going any further could be distinctly hazardous, so it was back to zombie movies and weather. /_But... what if 'e _wants_ ta talk abou' it?_/ 2-D knew it was his curiosity talking, but decided that he might as well go with it. Noodle often said that while curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought it back.

"Whadda ya mean, Murdoc?" His voice was soft and hesitant as he idly scratched Styx.

Murdoc's eyes shot over to 2-D. So many things he could say... He could tell the singer to fuck off and leave him alone, he could lie, or he could knock his remaining teeth out. He was about to snap at the blue-haired man sitting next to him; tell him to sod off and go be happy and sunny somewhere else because hanging around jaded, cynical bassists could destroy that innocent grin, and if the world needed anything, it was sun and smiles, but a lump suddenly formed in his throat, and as he swallowed it down words bubbled up from somewhere within him and an old familiar scene began playing behind his eyes, forcing the bassist to remember all that he wanted to forget.

"I told 'er that I hated 'er..."

2-D chanced a glance and saw Murdoc staring through the smoke of his cig, through the walls of the studio and through the fabric of time itself, playing some old broken memory behind his checkered eyes. "I was ten... playin' me bass too loud fer too long... she told me ta stop, that dinner was ready... we got inna fight... I told 'er that I hated 'er..." Murdoc's expression grew hard. "Hannibal always said it to her, the jackass." And then it was regretful once again. "But... she never thought she'd 'ear it from me..."

"It wasn't yer fault, Murdoc-" 2-D began, but Murdoc's murderous gaze stopped him.

"A'course it was Stu!" The Satanist snarled, but as quickly as the fire in his eyes had appeared, it vanished, leaving the bassist empty and drained. "Hannibal always told 'er that 'e hated 'er... Dad was cheatin' on 'er... Then the one person who she thinks loves 'er goes 'n tells 'er that 'e doesn't..." Murdoc took a long, calming drag on his cig. "No wonder she killed 'erself..."

The silence descended again, threatening to strangle the both of them, but rather than shatter the silence with conversation, 2-D slid closer and haltingly, tentatively put his arm around his aching band mate, doing the only thing he could think of to help his friend combat the pain of the past. " 'M sorry, Murdoc." His voice was loud, even when he whispered it in the silence of the studio.

Murdoc allowed the slight embrace for only a moment before he shrugged the singer's arm off his shoulders. "S'alright." He said absently. " 'S ancient 'istory now, anyway."

"Yeah... but ancient 'istory still 'urts, yanno..."

The two once again fell into silence, both fighting with inner demons. 2-D's thoughts were on the very limited information he had gathered from Murdoc over the years about his time before the band. All he had really known before this morning's strange impromptu confessional was that Murdoc had not gotten along well with his father who, according to Murdoc, was an asshole, and that his older brother Hannibal had disappeared years before. Never had he heard a word about Murdoc's mother, and now he knew why.

Murdoc's thoughts, however, were far from his own pain. He was thinking about 2-D; contemplating how the younger man could possible be so care-free, so sunny, so _happy_. It wasn't like 2-D had been sheltered from the harsh cold realities of life, or anything. The Satanist didn't know much about 2-D's old home life, but he knew enough. The young singer never knew his real dad's name (sure, there was that carnival guy who had _acted_ like a dad, but it wasn't the same thing) and his mom sure was no prize. She hadn't visited 2-D in the hospital when he was in a coma, and when Murdoc had finally gotten enraged enough to call her and tell her that her son was in the fucking hospital, she had curtly replied that she wouldn't be fronting the bill and hung up. A few weeks later, after 2-D had woken up, the two had gone back to his old house in hope of salvaging his life, only to find the house empty and abandoned, a For Sale sign stuck in the window. The two had gotten back into Murdoc's car and with 2-D crying on his shoulder the bassist had driven off. And yet, after all that, 2-D still had the strength to smile, to laugh... to be happy.

The Bass Demon sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "How do you do it, Tosser?"

The question surprised 2-D. "...Do wot, Murdoc?"

Murdoc stubbed out his cig in an ashtray. "Yer mum didn't love ya, ya don't know yer real dad... yer family treated ya like shit, yet you still..." He trailed off for a moment, collecting his thoughts and lighting up another cig. "Yet you still smile."

2-D pondered the question a bit, extinguishing his own cig, but all this deep thinking was really beginning to hurt his head. So, instead of trying to come up with some deep, significant answer, he simply thought about what made him happy. /_Lessee... Wot makes me 'appy? Russel inna mornin' when 'e's lookin' fer food 'n gruntin' like some 'alf dead zombie... Noodle when she's practicin' 'er martial arts on Russel... Murdoc when 'e's makin' fun of some stupid git on the telly... Noodle when she makes Murdoc do somfin' 'e normally wouldn't..._/ 2-D began to see a pattern forming, and when Styx suddenly licked his face the singer had his answer.

"Well," he started slowly, trying to organize his thoughts coherently so as not to confuse the bassist sitting next to him. "Yeah me family was bad, but den I went 'n got a new family." He smiled. It was so simple it was often overlooked. "Yeah, I gotsa older brover who's big 'n likes ta eat 'n sleep 'n play onna drums... 'n a little sister who fights zombies 'n is really smart 'n knows karate... 'n best of all I gotsa older brover who saved me life 'n took me in 'n 'elped me get everyfin' I ever wanted... 'n older brover who's grumpy 'n 'e drinks 'n swears way more den 'e should 'n 'e's always sad, but once in a while 'e smiles 'n when 'e does I know me family's complete 'n 'appy 'n..." 2-D trailed off, not really knowing how to end it. His black eyes darted up to the clock. 7:15... the others still wouldn't be up for a good half hour.

Momentarily forgetting the dog in his lap, 2-D suddenly stood, sending Styx to the floor with a startled yelp. The floppy eared dog shook himself and glanced up at his new owner, but 2-D had already grabbed Murdoc's hand and was half leading half dragging the stumbling bassist out the door into the hallway. "Murdoc, I gotsa idea ta make you feel 'appy!"

* * *

2-D looked over the plate in Murdoc's hand, noting that the bassist had literally covered ever inch of the plate in his surprisingly clear, though very tiny, handwriting. Though most of what was written was lost on 2-D, Murdoc's print being too small for the singer's slightly damaged eyes to make out, he could decipher a few words, those being Mom, Dad, Hannibal, scars, bruises, blood, hate-

Styx's barking made 2-D jump. He glanced down at the dog, who just tilted his head and barked again. 2-D looked over at Murdoc. "Ya ready?" He asked.

Murdoc blew out a cloud of smoke. "Wotever." It had taken the singer almost ten minutes to convince Murdoc to write his demons down on the plate, and still Murdoc was less than convinced that breaking a plate would make his problems disappear.

2-D sighed and looked at Murdoc pleadingly. "Please, Murdoc, ya gotsta believe dat it'll work. Overwise it won't do nofin' 'n you'll go back ta bein' all jaded 'n ya won't be 'appy 'n... 'n you deserve ta be 'appy..." His black eyes begged Murdoc to at least consider the possibility that this metaphorical problem breaking would make him feel better, if only for a little while.

And despite his bored expression, Murdoc was actually quite intrigued by the idea, and that was why he was standing at the edge of the Gorillaz property, on a little rise under a stout oak tree that overlooked a small valley, holding a plate in the pinkness of dawn. As he exhaled another cloud of smoke, his mismatched eyes flicked over to 2-D. The singer had said that they were family, and families (_real_ families, not shitty ones like he and 2-D had once had) trusted each other, so with slight hesitation and something else - anticipation? – he threw the slim hunk of china out into the valley and when he heard the sound of his plate – his problems – being broken, something happened in his soul.

/_The plate broke and the demons, those many heavy skeletons that had crawled forth from the closet of his spirit to perch mercilessly on his heart, cringed and a few of the smaller ones even released their grip on his soul and fled. While the others, the biggest and oldest ones, didn't fly away, their claws, which had been embedded in his heart for so very long, loosened their grip. Inch by inch the knives that had driven into his soul for years were painstakingly loosened and a few fell out altogether. I looked up at him... and he was smiling_./

Murdoc exhaled another puff of smoke, dropped his spent cigarette and crushed is under his heel. "Let's go inside, Muppet."


	6. Of Pancakes And Happiness

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who reads this story. And a massive thank you to all my reviewers, as you guys are the heart and soul of this story. Without you, this story would have been dead by chapter 2.

Surgeon's General Warning: Burnt pancakes, crazy driving and chewed up tennis balls may be hazardous to your health. (Though they make good ingredients for a chapter)

As always, the band isn't mine, but I do own the doggy, and the doggy OWNS YOU! ... Not really, but I can dream...

* * *

Chapter 6: Of Pancakes And Happiness

Russel woke with a yawn and turned his hip-hop spewing radio alarm off. The big American rose, stuffed his big feet into some fuzzy slippers that were stationed by his bed and shuffled out of his room and into the corridor, making a beeline for the kitchen. As he neared the often unsanitary room, he caught a whiff of something that made his big mouth water. Food was being cooked. _Good_ food too, by the smell of it. Peering into the kitchen, Russel was greeted with a sight so bizarre (at least for Kong Studios) that for a moment he wondered if he was still dreaming and this was some crazy version of _Alice in Wonderland_.

2-D was at the stove, frying pan in one hand, spatula in the other, cooking away as though he did this every morning, which was strange because not only did the blue haired singer usually prefer food that was much simpler (cereal or leftovers, for instance) but also due to his extreme naivety and his habit of falling asleep in the middle of just about anything, he had been instructed not to use the stove unless the fire department was present. Yet, here he was, cooking breakfast, whistling some sunny tune or another, like it was an everyday thing. But even more bizarre than 2-D at the stove was the fact that what he was making actually looked edible and smelt good.

Looking over at the table, Russel almost did a double take when he saw who else was in the kitchen; Murdoc. Not only was the bassist fully clothed (2 days in a row... wow... that had to be some sort of record) but he was also coaching 2-D on how to make the perfect pancake. Well, at least as close to _coaching_ as someone like Murdoc can get...

"Flip it, Dullard! Yer gonna bloody burn it!"

"Ya sure, Murdoc? I dun fink-"

"FLIP IT!" The bassist roared. The singer did as he was told a little too eagerly and pancake batter splattered up onto his face. Murdoc growled and started to rise. "Oh, fer the love a sweet Satan, give the bloody spatula before ya burn it black."

2-D tried to look offended, but it came out much more like a pout. "I can do it. 'Sides, you shouldn't be strainin' too much, ya might 'urt yerself."

Murdoc glared, ire in his eyes. "The hell's _that_ s'posed ta mean?"

Russel decided that now was a good time to enter, lest the bassist beat the singer bloody with various kitchen utensils which included (but was not limited to) meat tenderizers, pizza cutters and various sharp and pointy knives. "What's goin' on here, 'D?"

2-D looked at the drummer and a grin split his face. "Russ, come 'ere 'n 'ave a look! I made pancakes 'n eggs fer breakfast 'n Murdoc says I prob'ly gots enough brain cells ta try 'n make French toast 'n I hope ya like it; I made lots fer you 'cause I know ya like ta eats a lot 'n is Noodle up? I wanna show her, too 'cause I made breakfast, _real_ breakfast 'n I never done that before, 'n 'r dose new slippers? I don't fink I've seen dose ones-" 2-D continued to babble about breakfast and slippers while Russel tried to keep up with obviously elated younger man, but then the drummer smelled something. Something smoky and in a kitchen smoky was bad.

"What's burnin'?" All heads shot to the frying pan, which was beginning to bubble with dark grey smoke. A chorus of voices erupted like Pompeii.

"Turn it off, Dullard!"

"My pancake! 'S burnin'!"

"Where's the fire extinguisher, Murdoc?"

"We don't fucking got one!"

"Why the hell not?"

"Murdoc! Russ! I can't see, 'sall smoky!"

"Damn it, Muds, whaddid we say 'bout 'D and the kitchen?"

"Sod off, Tubby!"

"Where's da off button, guys? I can't find it!"

"Turn the dial, 'D!"

2-D's long fingers managed to find the dial and he gave it a sharp twist. Flames shot from beneath the frying pan, and the smoke got thicker and blacker.

"Wrong way, Muppet!"

2-D turned the dial the other way, extinguishing the flames and most of the smoke. The three coughed and Russel opened a window in hopes of airing out the kitchen before the fire alarms (did Kong even have fire alarms? Russel doubted it) went off and gave them all headaches.

Looking down at his charred flapjack, 2-D tried to remain optimistic. " 'S only a little dark, I fink it'll be fine."

Murdoc snorted. "It's toast, face ache."

"Yeah." Russel agreed, looking over the singer's shoulder. "That pancake's blacker than Murdoc's heart."

"Go suck a rail spike, lard ass."

Despite what his band mates said, 2-D rammed the spatula into the mess, hoping to pry it from the frying pan. "It'll be fine." He insisted as he strained in the age-old battle to separate food from pan. He struggled for a moment, and just as Russel was about to tell the blue haired man that it was shot and to just let it soak in the pan for a while, the blackened flapjack tore free from the pan and sailed upwards, ricocheting off the ceiling, solid as a rock, only to descend again and break over 2-D's head, the two blackened halves hitting the floor and skidding about.

Laughter spilled from behind the three men, and they all turned to see Noodle standing in the doorway, Styx in her arms, laughing at the antics of her three older 'brothers'. "What are you doing, 2-D-san?"

"Makin' breakfast, luv." He grinned. "Murdoc showed me 'ow."

The Satanist snorted. "Only 'cause you wouldn't let _me_ make it, face ache."

Noodle gave Murdoc a stern look. "He's right, Murdoc-san. You shouldn't strain yourself." She smiled as the bassist sat back down, grumbling obscenities under his breath. She set Styx down and walked over to the counter, where a feast of pancakes, eggs, sausage, toast and orange juice was spread out. The Axe Princess smiled again and threw her arms around 2-D. "Arigatou (1), 2-D-san!" She then moved over to the still grumbling Murdoc and gave him a much gentler hug, wary of his ribs. "Arigatou, Murdoc-san."

"Yeah, yeah." The Bass Demon nudged her away. "Go get some breakfast, luv."

For the second time in as many days the band ate together like... well, a band. Murdoc was quiet (not that this was strange for the bassist), still musing over all that had happened that morning, but 2-D was talking enough for the both of them. The singer was reminiscent of a five year old, fresh home from kindergarten, explaining all he had learned; like when to flip to the pancake, and to always use the non-stick spray, as it helped when the time came to remove said pancake from the pan. Noodle found it very amusing and listened with rapt attention as 2-D outlined the various settings on the stove and toaster (not that she didn't know them all already), and Russel, who somehow found himself wrapped up in the singer's enthusiasm, began giving 2-D tips on what to add to the eggs to make omelets and other tasty, though relatively simple, dishes.

Styx sniffed the blackened pancake halves curiously, then moved back under the table where he gently pawed Murdoc's leg. The bassist nonchalantly dropped a piece of sausage down and the dog quickly ate it before moving around the table, begging for various table scraps from the four band members. When he came to Noodle, he nosed and pawed her leg, and when the young girl looked down at him, he tilted his head to one side and let his tongue loll out, his eyes speaking volumes.

The young guitarist read the dog's eyes perfectly, and when she looked back at the other three her own eyes were shining happily. "Let's go on a picnic!"

* * *

It was a sunny spot, in some park that was, thankfully, deserted. Russel set the packed cooler down in the grass, Styx by his side trying to catch a butterfly while 2-D and Noodle spread out a huge blanket and Murdoc leaned up against a tree, smoking.

"Dis is a nice spot, 'ey?" 2-D called to Murdoc as he sat on the blanket and was leapt upon by Styx.

"Nice 'n empty," Was the grunted reply. For a while they had been followed by several fans, but thanks to Murdoc's insane driving -his instance that off-roading was only illegal in places where the population was over a billion, and enough traffic violations to make a cop's head spin- they had lost their fans and found an out of the way place where they could relax and not worry about being mobbed for autographs, dates, crazed girls screaming that they wanted to have 2-D's baby and the like.

Russel opened the cooler and took out a sandwich. "I still can't believe it, Muds." He shook his head. "How many miles over the speed limit were you going?"

"Forty."

"And how many cars did you cut off?"

"More'n a few dozen, I bet."

"And how many red lights did you run?"

"Lost track."

Russel shook his head again. "All that and not _one_ ticket."

Murdoc gave a grin that would get most people put away in a room with padded walls. " 'S amazin' innet?"

2-D meanwhile had found a good sized stick in the grass and he and Noodle were flinging it as far as they could, watching as Styx raced over the grass to retrieve his prize, then bring it back for a quick game of tug-a-war. He smiled as the dog suddenly rolled over onto his back, legs splayed in the air, tail wagging; there was something special, almost _magical_, about the dog and all he had done for the band. As 2-D scratched the dog's belly, he mused on everything the special dog had done since the singer had first found him in that equally special valley. In fact, hadn't 2-D had been wishing for a friend right before Styx had literately climbed into his life/_'S like dis dog's a gift from 'eaven 'r somfin'..._/

/_We were in a nice, quiet place, full of sunshine and happiness. The good feeling almost sprouted from the earth itself, reminding me very much of _that_ place; the golden valley where 2-D and I had met also seemed to scream of joy and smiles. I glanced over towards Murdoc, thinking that places like this would do the bassist good. Murdoc's demons still perched unrelenting, but it was if many of them had lost their power over him; the man was smiling. Small, fleeting ones, to be sure, but real ones nonetheless_./

Noodle saw the thoughtful look on 2-D face as he indolently scratched Styx's stomach. She glanced over her shoulder at Murdoc and Russel, who were busy talking about new song ideas and beats, and though the young girl knew she should probably join their conversation, she had more important things to discuss with 2-D, like Murdoc's sudden change of heart. Though, she knew it hadn't actually been _sudden_ per say. She had known from the minute she met him that Murdoc was really much nicer than he acted, and that all his snapping and grunting was just a front for something else. What, she didn't know, and she wondered if the brooding bassist would ever give up all of his secrets.

"What are you thinking, 2-D-san?" Noodle's voice jarred 2-D from his uncharacteristically complex thoughts. He turned to face the young girl, blinking a bit, trying to re-organize himself.

"Hm? Oh, I was jus' finkin' 'bout Styx 'n 'ow I found 'im 'n fings like dat."

Noodle's mind made up, she tugged on the singer's sleeve. "2-D-san, let's take Styx-chan and go for a walk."

The idea appealed immensely to the blue haired man, who grinned and nodded eagerly. Turning to the two older men he stood. "Noodle 'n I 'r gonna go fer a walk, kay?"

Russel looked from Noodle to 2-D and down to Styx. Returning his milky white eyes to Noodle he said, "Make sure those two stay outta trouble."

Murdoc snorted out a laugh and Noodle giggled while 2-D threw Russel the second pout of the day. "I can stay outta trouble, Russ." His obviously inane statement was met with an assortment of chuckles, unbelieving snickers and more giggling.

Noodle took 2-D's hand and tugged him away from their snickering band mates. "Come on, 2-D-san." She said, her smile suppressing her giggles. "Just ignore them."

* * *

The two walked along a shaded path that wound its way through a slightly wooded area. They had chatted about this and that and many things in between when Styx came up to them with a dirty, discarded tennis ball and Noodle bent down to give the dog a hug. "Styx-chan is so wonderful, 2-D-san. Where did you find him?"

" 'E found me, really." 2-D grinned and picked up the old tennis ball, tossing it for the eager dog. "Over in me special spot, yanno? 'E jus' sorta came up ta me when I was sittin' dere."

"He is a very special dog, no?" 2-D nodded and there was a beat of silence until Noodle finally decided to just bring the question out into the open. "2-D-san... have you noticed a... er, a _change_ in Murdoc-san?"

"Yeah..." 2-D smiled. " 'E seems 'appier doesn't 'e?"

It was Noodle's turn to nod. "Hai (2)... he does."

"I fink-" 2-D stopped; already worried he had said too much. It was a ridiculous idea – he _knew_ this – but no matter how fiercely he tried to doubt it, a part of him whispered the things he knew he wanted to hear, to _believe_, and nothing, no amount of fact or disbelief would make that small voice in his head be quiet.

"What is it that you think, 2-D-san?" Noodle asked gently. "It is okay. You can tell me."

"I fink, maybe, Styx 'ad somefin' ta do wif it." There. It was out now; his strange, ridiculous idea that somehow, someway the scrawny, floppy eared dog with mismatched eyes had changed his bassist; had somehow broken through the brick wall that was Murdoc's demeanor and had helped him find happiness. And now Noodle was going to laugh (or at least giggle) and tell him that he was crazy.

But, Noodle only nodded slowly, sagely. "I agree with you 2-D-san. Styx-chan has done something for Murdoc-san, something good."

2-D glanced down at Noodle, but the young girl was watching Styx. He argued with himself for a few moments before deciding to just out and ask it. After all, Noodle had proved time and time again that she was intelligent, insightful and other large words that 2-D had trouble pronouncing. "Noodle, luv, why d'ya fink I found Styx?"

The young girl considered this a moment, reflecting on everything that had happened since 2-D had brought the scruffy dog to Kong. "2-D-san, I do not think that you found Styx, but rather Styx found _you_." She paused for a moment. "Too much has happened, 2-D-san... Too many wondrous things. I do not believe that it's merely coincidence that Styx came into our lives."

"Yanno..." Noodle looked up at the singer, who shifted a bit in embarrassment. "I asked fer a friend ta watch the sunset wif... right before 'e found me." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, self-conscious of his thinking. "I fought, well, fer a little while a' least, dat maybe 'e wassa angel from 'eaven 'r somefin'... but dat's crazy."

"Sukoshimo (3), 2-D-san. Back in Japan many people believe in angels." Noodle's attention was stolen when Styx re-emerged from the bushes, looking for all the world like a stray mutt with ears and feet that were a bit too large, mismatched eyes that shone with an inner intelligence, and a tail that never seemed to stop wagging. He tilted his head at the two and his tail wagged even harder.

/_Tenshi..._/ (4)

* * *

(1)-Thank you (2)-Yes (3)-Not at all (4)-Angel


	7. Of Innocence And Time

A/N: So sorry it took so long for this chapter; family was in from out of town so I clung to them like goo while they were here, and then I had to start packing to go away to college. Yeah, my room is bare; almost but not quite like a skeleton. Anyways, enough of this ramble, you want to get on to the story, but first! Thank you to all who review, really makes my day! I'm glad the last chapter made people feel happy. –Feels happy herself– Only bad thing to note is that the story is coming to an end. I think one, maybe two more chapters, depending on how into detail I go. Probably two, knowing me...

Dirty dogs, mentions of the past and late-night phone calls run ramped without fences and any thought to physics and karma.

Also, don't own Gorillaz, but I do own Styx as well as various gifts given to me by reviewers. I heart you all!

* * *

Chapter 7: Of Innocence And Time

"2-D-san, would you like to know what I believe?" The question surprised 2-D and he looked at the young girl at his side, who was squatting down, scratching Styx's belly.

"A'course, luv."

"I believe Styx-chan was supposed to find you." She scooped the dog up into her arms and stood, facing the singer. "2-D-san, I believe very strongly that all things happen for a reason. I do not think that there are many random chances." She hugged the dog tightly. "Styx-chan was meant to come to us. Just as I was meant to be shipped to your door, and you were meant to be meet Murdoc-san, and Russel-san was meant to move to England."

"Wot's 'e s'posed ta do?"

Noodle meditated on the question for a moment. "I do not think we will find that out until he does it, 2-D-san. Maybe he is supposed to help Murdoc-san find some happiness, or perhaps he is meant to help you find a friend to watch the sunset. Perhaps both, and then again, perhaps neither." Styx licked her face and squirmed in her grip until she let him back down.

With an excited bark the dog grabbed 2-D's pant leg and began to tug playfully. "Wot'cha want, Styx?" 2-D asked with a laugh. The dog dropped the pant leg, barked, spun in a small circle and took off down the path a bit, looking back expectantly at the two. He barked again, his meaning crystal clear.

The singer and the guitarist ran after the excited dog, laughing as Styx led them down the path and through the bushes in a wild romp through the park. They chased him as he ran, never letting them get too far behind, always circling back and barking, his tail never stopping in its constant wagging. They chased him, for he was a good luck charm, a bringer of things both good and fair who had managed to chase away the looming shadows that plagued them. They chased him, for they wanted to hold him, always, forever, never letting go of the good that he brought, the innocence he had saved, for they were innocent, and their innocence needed protecting.

Life has teeth, sharp teeth that can bury into the softness of one's heart and leave scars; some scars are small and barely noticeable, but others, the ones that manufacture sorrow, guilt, and other such emotions which force tears out of the most jaded pairs of eyes, these scars are massive jagged lines that circle one's heart and trap pain, never letting it go. And pain, as wounding as it is, doesn't like to linger in places too long; it would rather visit a heart only briefly before moving on, but the scars, the big ones made by life's teeth, trap pain, and no matter how much it struggles, it cannot break free. So it thrashes and screams and the people turn cold and jaded, used to pain, for it has always been there, and finally pain strikes back in the best way it knows how; it shatters innocence.

/_Unbeknownst to them, as they ran weaving through the trees they were leaving behind something dark and sinister that lurked in the trees and in the ground and in the very air around them. It was a demon, the darkest and most hated demon of all; the demon of innocence's end. He is everywhere, following everyone, waiting for a time to break the paper thin protection that is innocence; waiting for that perfect end of innocence. He will find them in time; no one stays innocent forever, but not then. Not that day. That day they would run, and feel childish again, and embrace that which every living thing in this world was born with, but so few still possess; innocence_./

The two finally caught up with Styx in a large clearing, and they dropped to their knees, 2-D panting, but grinning like a child, Noodle laughing as she hugged the dog tightly and got a face full of licks for her effort. 2-D flopped onto his back, inhaling all the various scents of the forest; the pine, the dirt, and the sweet, sweet air, and Styx managed to worm his way out of Noodle's grip and jump onto the singer's chest, making him 'oof!', then laugh as the dog eagerly sniffed his face. "Styx, dat tickles!" The dog licked him and Noodle laughed.

"2-D-san, we should be going back now. I would not want Murdoc-san and Russel-san to worry." She held out her hand and helped the tall singer up.

"I don't fink dey'll worry none." 2-D grinned. " 'Sides, I gots you ta look out fer me." The two laughed at that, the kind of laugh that makes your side hurt, and their laughter – their innocence – made Styx's tail wag even harder as he yipped and barked, racing around them as if fueled by their happiness.

* * *

Murdoc popped open another beer as Russel continued to chow down on the potato chips he had brought. The bassist took a swig then noticed the shape bounding towards them from the woods. It was Styx, and as the dog came closer Murdoc cursed... loudly.

"Bloody hell! TOSSER!" He screamed as the dog neared him, tail wagging as it always did. "TOSSER, GET OUT 'ERE NOW!"

Russel looked up from his potato chips. "The hell you going on abou', Muds?"

The obviously enraged bassist jabbed a finger at the dog who unabashedly went over to Russ and began sniffing at the chips. "Dullard's dog is fucking _filthy_ 'n 'e ain't getting' in _my_ Geep like that!" He turned back to the woods where Styx had emerged. "STU-POT!"

Picking the dog up and off the blanket, Russel saw that Murdoc was in fact telling the truth, as evident by the brown and black mess left on the blanket where Styx had been walking. He also noted, with some mild antipathy, that his hands and shirt were also getting muddy, as Styx, being the hyper bundle that he was, was squirming and thrashing, attempting to get out of the big American's grip. Though he was brought up not to lie, he thought that perhaps this wasn't the best time to agree with Murdoc; who knew what Satanist might come up with if he knew he had at least one other person backing him.

"I dunno, Muds. I don't think he's _that_ bad."

Murdoc turned, incredulity stamped on his face. "Russ, wot the bloody 'ell 'r you-" He stopped, blinked, then glared. "Russel, you fat tub a lard, yer as filthy as 'e is!"

Russel stood, not at all liking the bassist's choice of words, and he probably would have made some sort of comment about Murdoc being a hypocrite (as the bassist almost always drove the Geep when he went out to the pubs only to return in the morning with a screaming hangover, covered in his own vomit and if _that_ wasn't filthy, Russel didn't know what was) but 2-D and Noodle emerged from the woods, mud splashed up to their knees, laughing. The drummer looked them up and down. "The hell you guys been?"

"Nowhere." They said in unison, still giggling like children who knew something the adults didn't. The two sat on the grass, not wanting the blanket to get any muddier and began digging through the cooler for something to drink. Styx managed to wriggle out of Russel's grip and the ever hungry dog stuck his nose in the cooler, looking for anything edible that he could sink his teeth into.

At this point, Murdoc knew that fighting was useless; being outnumber three to one (technically _four_ to one if you counted that damned dog) and trying to maintain complete and utter control over the group would probably only serve to make Russel irritated, and a large, scary, irritated Russel would probably go so far as to force Murdoc to sit in the back with Noodle while he drove them home, and that was one blow to his pride Murdoc could do without. So, he only took a swig of his beer, fumed, grumbled, bitched and moaned about mud, his Geep, and how'd he have to take it to the wash, all the while hiding the small smile that seemed to be showing up on his face more and more. Perhaps there _was_ something to breaking those stupid plates.

* * *

For twelve glorious days the sound of laughing, barking and all around happiness could be heard sounding throughout Kong Studios. Regular visitors to the mansion-turned-studio (like the staff, the postman and the milkman) all agreed that _something_ was different about the place. Even the mansion itself, too long a dark place often associated with woe and misery, seemed to be feeling the effects of the whatever-it-was that was slowly but surely spreading. The building seemed to cease the worst of its ghastly groans that sounded in the middle of the night, and the dust, which often collected at an appalling rate (especially in the corners and the places where the sunlight never quite hit even on the rare full blown sunny days when the light screamed through the windows trying to banish the darkness), seemed to be taking it's sweet time in settling down. Even the zombies were becoming less and less frequent.

Happiness could do that.

It could start off small, a smile, a kind word, and it could grow, just as surly as a flower. And, if conditions were ideal, it could grow even larger, going from a small bud, to a large flower, to a tall mess of brush, to a tree that towered fifty feet in the air. And, if the people around it worked hard enough at it, nurtured it, cultivated it and believed in it, the tree could snowball into an entire forest, baffling yet delighting all who knew its presence. This is what had happened at Kong.

Yet, something else happened there too. Time became a surreal and often obscured thing. The days would start with breakfast and seconds later the band was sitting, watching television or movies, Noodle asleep with her head in someone's lap, and then they were all saying goodnight, going their own separate ways, and 2-D and Murdoc and Russel and Noodle too (if she was still awake) would lie in their beds, thinking about everything that had happened that day, and though it seemed as if the hours had flown on the wings of a fighter jet, a lot had happened. And it wasn't just once that the day had been over and done with at the snap of a finger; it was all days. And likewise, all the days that lasted only seconds were filled to the brim with everything one could possibly do; there were picnics and practices and beach trips and once they had even cleaned up the graveyard. There were journeys up to the attic to clear out the dust and cobwebs, there were drives into town to get ice cream (so many flavors that the list was endless) there were movie marathons and a trip to the amusement park where Murdoc had tried (and failed) to win Noodle a stuffed animal larger than Russel at that "damned rigged" bottle toss (strangely enough, however, an hour later Murdoc had slid away from the group and returned with said stuffed animal, having given the attendant a black eye and a bloody nose for it).

That was what time could do.

It could slow down and speed up at its leisure. In the days before the band, when Murdoc had been pissing around in his Winnebago all day, trying to make the few ends he had meet with a shitty part-time job, time had been slow – _agonizingly_ slow – and often he would glance at the clock, expecting at least an hour to have crawled by, but in reality the minute number had only inched along by five small ticks. The only times when time actually seemed to have a heartbeat was when his fingers strummed his bass, and his dream of music, rock and roll, and a chat-topping band was revived again, if only for a few hours. But, when he had suddenly had that crazy idea to break into Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium, time had kick started into fourth gear and after one single second everything had changed.

It had been like this for 2-D as well. Way back in the days of a nagging, careless mother and a lousy dead end job time had crawled along slowly. Everyday he would watch the clock, waiting on pins and needles as the minute hand swam through molasses to reach the next hour, waiting for the time when he could throw his ungodly ugly uniform off and spend a few precious moments (which, in contrast to the day sped along as though they were in some kind of race) alone as he walked to back to his shrill mother. There, he would watch the clock as his mother reprimanded him for anything and everything, from his hair and his clothes to his dreams and ambitions. He would wait as the minutes once again entered that thick, sticky molasses, waiting for the only time of the day that he really cherished, late when his mother finally went to bed, drunk usually, and he had two whole hours where he could finally do what he loved; play his keyboard and sing to himself. Time had continued on like that, slowly – painfully slowly – until that one faithful day when he had been instructed to go in early and do inventory. That faithful day when he met Murdoc and time had rocketed so fast that it seemed to be making up for all the slowness it had taken getting to that point.

And there was another thing time could do, if it really wanted too.

In fact, there wasn't really anything time _couldn't_ do, come to think of it. It could cure scrapes and bruises, mend broken bones and broken hearts, restore order to chaos, and heal the pain of past mistakes. Time could change the world, push all the contents together and rip them all apart. It could make rocks fade and crumble; it could grow forests and make them die.

It could blind people, lull them into a false sense of security. It could make people believe the very best of everything. Time could make sunny days and sunny spirits last. It could erase all nagging doubts about anything. It could persuade people to make promises, promises made on little rises overlooking small valleys in the shade of a stout oak tree. Promises of being together, forever, for all time; promises of play, and trips to the vet and more trips to the beach, and a collar with a name, declaring to the world who one was. Promises of bacon in the morning, and belly-rubs at night and as the sun got trapped between two peaks, and that little rise that overlooked that little valley was covered in a heavenly glow, time persuaded a blue-haired singer to make another promise; a promise to a scraggly brown dog whose paws and ears were too big. A promise to pay him back for everything he had done for him and his friends.

Yes, time could do everything.

Even tear everything apart.

* * *

Russel yawned and tried to stretch, careful of Noodle, whose head was in his lap. She was sleeping soundly, having fallen asleep near the ending of the last zombie movie and continued sleeping right through the latest one; one so cheesy and corny that Russel felt his own eyes drooping, and with a sigh he collected the young girl in his arms and stood.

"Night, you two. Don't stay up too late."

"Wouldn't dream of it, _dad_." Murdoc sneered. Had he not been carrying Noodle, Russel might have given the ornery bassist the finger.

"Night Russ." 2-D said cheerfully. "Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"If they do, use dynamite." Russel called back as he carried Noodle to her room.

2-D grabbed Murdoc's arm, black eyes wide. "Murdoc! Do we really 'ave dynamite 'ere?"

" 'S just an expression, Stu-Pot, 'n a shitty one at that."

"Oh." A little disappointed and a little confused (why would Russel bring up dynamite if they didn't have any?) 2-D went back to scratching Styx's belly and watching as undead armies ravaged the land.

The video ended and 2-D had just put another tape in (the movies they were watching were a trilogy) when a beeping resonated throughout the room. With a grunt that sounded rather negative, Murdoc dug deep into his jeans pocket and pulled out his cell phone, which he then flipped open and growled a very angry sounding "Wot?" into the receiver.

A few seconds and Murdoc's angry expression turned almost evil as he purred, "Glad ta 'ear yer outta the 'ospital, Lee." 2-D paled, looking at the phone as if it was about to transform into something evil and deadly, which in truth it already had. "Really?" Murdoc continued in that purring, scornful voice of his. "Wot's the catch?" As he listened, he sniggered a bit, until 2-D finally managed to lock eyes with him, and the look in 2-D's eyes made Murdoc's evil grin falter, then fade. "Er, wot, 'm sorry? Oh, yeah, uh... no, no, no... s'not daft at all, actually... Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there." A shadow of a smile passed Murdoc's lips as he glanced back at 2-D and Styx. "Yeah... somethin' like that."

Murdoc put the phone away and stood, stretching a bit. With one last glance at the zombie movie on the screen, he started towards the lobby. Fear began to play the xylophone along 2-D's spine. "Where you goin'?"

"Out." Was the curt reply. "Stay 'ere 'n finish yer movie, Tosser." The front door closed.

Fear ranked its claws down 2-D's back and grabbed his heart, freezing it. 2-D jumped up, his long legs racing for the door, Styx at his heels, the zombie movie flickering across the screen, forgotten. He didn't want Murdoc going out into the darkness of the world. He didn't want Murdoc to go and face the rival band. He didn't want Murdoc to get hurt again; he didn't deserve it.

He deserved to be happy.


	8. Of New Beginnings And Mourning Skies

A/N: Sorry about the long wait folks! I just moved to go to college, and I won't have internet until the 12th or something like that. Right now I'm using a friend's computer, so everyone give Sarah a huge thank you; if it weren't for her, you wouldn't be reading this. Please excuse the bad "drunk" typing... having never been drunk, or around anyone who was, I only had stereotypes and gut instinct to guide me on the slurs. Also, on a sadder note, the story's end is coming; one more chapter after this one. Can't think of anything else, so umm... cheese.

The wild and exotic adamant singer, angry drunk and rain all coming up on this edition of The Sound of Breaking Plates, stay tuned, kiddies!

I don't own Gorillaz, but I do own Styx and the rival band. Wootness.

* * *

Chapter 8: Of New Beginnings And Mourning Skies

"Wot?" _"Murdoc? It's Lee. I'm on my way to Kong."_ "Glad ta 'ear yer outta the 'ospital, Lee." _"Listen, Murdoc, we have to talk."_ "Really?" _"Yes, really!"_ "Wot's the catch?" _"There is no catch. Look... I'm not gonna apologize for what I've done, just as I know you aren't either, but this... this has to stop. Frankly, I'm sick of fightin' with you, sick of bein' in the hospital, and sick of payin' medical bills... I'm tired of this, as I'm sure you are, so let's just agree to disagree."_ "Er, wot, 'm sorry?" _"I said, let's bury the hatchet."_ "Oh, yeah, uh..." _"You think it's a daft idea."_ "No, no... s'not daft at all, actually..." _"Then... you'll show?" _"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be there." _"A change of heart, eh?"_ "Yeah... something like that."

The conversation kept replaying itself through Murdoc's mind as he strode purposefully out the front door and down the path to the gate. He drew his jacket tighter around him as the sound of his heels pounded in his ears. There had been something in Lee's voice, something that made Murdoc want to believe that perhaps that's all this strange late-night calling out was; a chance to forgive, forget and carry on. And truthfully, that's all Murdoc really wanted. Sure, at first he'd been pissed and had planned to hurt them all in evil malicious ways that would impress even Satan himself, but then, something had happened... but what? Murdoc tried to think of all that had happened over the last 2 weeks, but his brain quickly asked him what _hadn't_ happened? And then Murdoc knew; he didn't want to fight with Lee and his band because it was pointless. There were so many other things to do, like win Noodle huge, giant stuffed animals that she really didn't need, but very much wanted, and burying 2-D in the sand at the beach, then leaving him to holler as the tide came in, screaming like a little girl, before digging him out and watching him scramble away from the water like it was a monster out to get him.

Yes, Murdoc wanted the fighting to stop, if only because it was a waste of precious time. But, Murdoc also knew the world hadn't been built on trust, so he stopped to pick up a discarded brick when he passed one. As he straightened, someone grabbed his shoulder.

"Murdoc! Wait! Where ya goin'?" Murdoc turned to face the breathless 2-D with a mild look of annoyance.

"Go back inside, Tosser, 'n take that damned dog with ya."

2-D looked at Murdoc with eyes reminiscent of a pleading orphan. "Please, Murdoc, jus' ferget Lee 'n come back inside, _please_? I know ya wanna fight wif 'im but... but wot if somefin' 'appens – somefin' _bad_? I-"

"Nothing bad's gonna 'appen, Stu-Pot. Lee 'n I 'r jus' gonna talk. Bury the 'atchet, yanno?"

The singer still looked hesitant. "You sure?"

"Yeah. 'S gonna be fine."

2-D's eyes flicked down to Murdoc's hand. "Why ya got dat brick den?"

Murdoc shoved the brick into his jacket pocket. "Jus' in case Lee's yankin' me." He saw the worried expression reappear on 2-D's face. " 'Onestly, Tosser, I don't think 'e'll try anythin'." He lit up a cigarette.

"Den... Den I'm comin' wif you." 2-D said in what he hoped was an adamant voice.

"Don't be daft, Tos-"

"I'm comin' wif you!" It was a strong voice that spoke, and there was a beat of silence; 2-D's uncharacteristically defiant voice surprising the both of them. When 2-D spoke again, his voice was once again his more familiar meek pleading. "In case... in case somefin' bad does 'appen... I wanna be dere... Yanno, ta 'elp..."

/_There had been something in 2-D's voice then, a strong something; a something that was almost but not quiet entirely out of place coming from the singer's mouth. It sounded strange, yet somehow right, and the demons that clouded around on this darkest of night shrank back, almost in fear, or perhaps even awe, at the sound of that strange, yet somehow right strength that emitted from the depths of the singer's soul. It was a strength very few people knew 2-D possessed; I knew it, as I'm sure did Noodle, for the small girl believed the world of all her band mates, and rightly so. Russel probably suspected that somewhere beneath all of the painkillers and blank stares there was something strong in 2-D. Murdoc was the only one who probably didn't have a clue_./

Murdoc looked the singer up and down, as if trying to sum him up. That unyielding tone had taken him by surprise, and if it was one thing Murdoc Niccals didn't like to be, it was caught off guard. Finally he relented with a snort that sent a cloud of smoke out of his nostrils. "Fine." He glanced down at Styx, whose tail was wagging like always. "I s'pose you want 'im ta come?" When 2-D nodded, Murdoc only grunted and continued his walk to the gate.

* * *

Both Lee and Clayton were there standing beside Clayton's small black four door parked alongside the road, and though the drummer looked somewhat less than pleased to be there, he nodded to Murdoc and 2-D, who did likewise, before Lee dropped his cig, crushed it, and looked Murdoc in the eye. "Thanks for comin', Murdoc."

Murdoc extinguished his own cigarette. "Where's Damien?"

Lee shrugged. "Well... Damien got pretty pissed when I said I just wanted to forget this mess. Drove off like a bat outta hell. Probably went down to the bar. Been there a lot since the doc's told him..." When Clayton pointedly coughed Lee glanced over at him, and 2-D was sure he saw a knowing look pass between them before Lee waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, forget that jackass." He eyed Murdoc curiously. "In all honesty, I didn't think you'd come."

"Yeah, well-" Murdoc stopped, his tongue suddenly going dry in his mouth. He almost let it slip; almost said that 2-D had convinced him (that damned look in his eyes... and that damned dog, too), but after tripping over his tongue in an attempt to squash that thought, he shrugged, all the while maintaining that always cool 'don't screw with me' air about him. "Yer right, 'm sick a the doctor bills 'n that stupid 'ospital." There was a moment of silence before he held his hand out to Lee. "Right, so, no more fights."

Lee took his hand. "And no more blasting each other in interviews."

" 'N more whackin' me with a pipe." Murdoc felt the corner of his mouth begin to flutter up in a grin.

"S'long as you don't trash my car again." Lee countered, his own mouth tugging into a smirk. They shook on it, a promise for a new start, while 2-D and Clayton stood back, both relieved that the pointless rivalry was now over.

Then, Lee's car showed up. It was grey, covered in dents that could have been made by a shovel and graffiti that claimed Lee, Clayton and Damien were twats. It swerved a bit, but managed to park successfully behind Clayton's, which was a miracle, because the driver who stumbled out of the car was too drunk to see straight, let alone drive. Clayton and Lee looked both shocked and horrified to see Damien stagger out of the car, smelling of smoke and liquor and hate.

Lee looked incredulously at his brother. "Damien, what the hell-"

"Shadup, Lee." Damien's voice slurred. He pointed an accusing finger at his sibling. "Yer a fuckin' dishgrash, yanno that? Runnin' away from allayer fighsh... pathedic." He spun on his heel, nearly losing his balance, to glare at Clayton. " 'N you. The hell you thinkin', shidin' wit 'im? Yer ash much a fucker ash he ish."

The alcohol was burning though Damien's eyes and Lee moved closer to his brother, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Damien, yer plastered, just get in the car; Clayton 'n I 'r almost-"

The drunken guitarist wasn't interested, and he cracked his fist across Lee's jaw before hurling him into Clayton. "Fuck you, Lee!" He screamed as Clayton stumbled backward, Lee in his arms. The drummer tried to remain upright, but his foot slipped on a rock and sent the two tumbling to the ground in a heap.

Damien then turned and glared at Murdoc, his eyes filled with hate; hate fueled by the raging rampant buzz of alcohol. "You!" He hissed, his eyes narrowing. "You know what'cher damn dog did? 'E tore alla tendonsh in my hand! Doc shaysh I'll pro'lly never play guitar again!"

Murdoc, who had always liked Damien the least (the man was a thug and a drunk and though it might be hypocritical, Murdoc had never really liked those kinds of people), had come to learn after knowing the rival band for almost a year that Damien was not just a jerk, but also a lousy musician, a beater of both women and children and just an all around asshole. So, though he wanted to stop fighting with Lee and Clayton, Damien was another story. And as Damien had just admitted he couldn't play guitar anymore, it was natural to assume that he was no longer part of the band; after all, a guitarist who couldn't play the guitar was about as useful as elevator music. Before he had even turned that idea over in his mind, Murdoc's mouth split into a contemptuous grin. "My 'eart bleeds purple piss fer you."

Fury burned like ire in the drunken guitarist's eyes and Murdoc could almost physically feel crashing waves of hate and fire that stormed in the other man's eyes like raging hurricanes. Damien grabbed Murdoc's shirt with his undamaged hand, his eyes becoming glassy in a drunken rage. "You shoory shunuva bitch... I'm gonna kill you."

"Don'tcho touch 'im!" 2-D barreled into Damien, and though the singer wasn't exactly pro-wrestler material, he was able to make the already tipsy Damien lose his balance a bit more. The drunken guitarist released Murdoc's shirt to flail his arms and for a moment it seemed as though he would topple to the ground and that would be the end of it; 2-D and Murdoc would say their good-byes to Lee and Clayton and toddle off back to Kong. But as fate would have it, a strong wind pushed the drunk in the right direction, and his foot found solid ground once again.

Murdoc stared in disbelief at 2-D, who was now standing protectively in front of him; for the second time that night the singer had surprised him, and not with little trivial things like the ability to make pancakes, but in more crucial matters that involved strength and spirit. Perhaps he had been wrong; perhaps 2-D wasn't always the sniveling weakling he often portrayed. The bassist shoved that thought aside as Damien stepped up and grabbed 2-D's shirt.

The drunk glared at 2-D and his voice dropped to a menacing whisper. "Shouldn'ta butted in ya pathedic excush fer a shinger... Now I'm gonna kill you too. "

"Don't fuckin' touch 'im." Murdoc had stepped up next to the singer, side by side with the man he often degraded and ridiculed, but tonight 2-D had shown something stronger; something strong enough to make the Heaven's begin to weep with rain. Murdoc glared at Damien with the fires of Hell burning behind his eyes and for a moment Damien believed that Murdoc wasn't just a Satanist; he was the devil himself.

Shaking his head, the drunken guitarist raised a fist, unconcerned with the angry bassist or the stanch face of the man in his grip. Then from the bushes along the road Styx burst forth, an avenging streak of brown fur. His large paws scrambled for purchase on the ground and he launched himself upwards, his teeth managing to grab a hold of the guitarist's arm. Damien howled in pain, freeing 2-D and wildly swinging his arm in an attempt to lose this new unwanted burst of feeling. With a hard shake he was able to send Styx sprawling to the ground, and when he looked down at the dog at his feet, his eyes became glassier, even more detached as the world melted away, erasing Murdoc and 2-D, Lee and Clayton, leaving only him and the dog who had ruined him. "You."

To this day no one knows where it came from; his belt, his pocket, maybe even up his sleeve. It happened so quickly, so mind-numbingly fast, that before 2-D was even aware of anything, everything was over. Damien had a gun; a small one, one you could buy at any shop in Essex that sold guns, and it was pointed at Styx. The dog was growling fiercely at Damien, his lips raised in a full-blown snarl that showed off every one of his large sharp teeth, and he was standing, head lowered, protectively in front of Murdoc and 2-D, standing his ground, ready to fight -to die- for his family.

There were voices, many of them, all yelling at once. "Damien, what 'r you doing?" "Put the gun down, Damien!" "Don't be daft!" But nothing flashed over the drunken guitarist's hardened, psychotic features, and still his finger was tightening around the trigger, the barrel still pointed downward at the unmoving, unrelenting dog. "Styx, no!"

The last voice belonged to 2-D, and even as the words were leaving his lips, he had started forward, scrambling to protect that scruffy dog with the mismatched eyes and the lolling tongue, who had given so much to him and the band. The dog he had promised to repay.

There was a gun shot.

There was a clap of thunder as the Heaven's split open, their tears pelting the ground relentlessly in a torrent of rain.

And then there was pain; pain like nothing the Butterscotch Angel had ever felt before. White hot fire that filled his body with pain as a dark red flower blossomed on his shoulder. The force of the bullet forced him backward, used his own momentum against him until he was crumpled on the ground.

The sound of the shot rang in his ears like the tolls of a great brass bell. He heard someone shout his name – his _real_ name – and he felt strong arms wrap around him, cradle him. He felt the sky's tears raining down on him, drenching him in their downpour. The white-hot pain was fiddling with his senses, like he was almost detached from his body in a sense. He felt the arms around him, felt the raindrops soaking him, heard screams and yells and soft murmurs of comfort, he saw something unfolding in front of his eyes, but it all seemed like some deliriously dull movie that he'd already seen before.

Pain affected his vision, covering his eyes like they were playing a game of hide and seek. But every once in a while 2-D was able to see glimpses of things between pain's black narrow fingers; he saw Clayton on a cell phone, he saw the road already getting slick with rain and Lee struggling with Damien for the gun. He couldn't see Murdoc, but that could only mean that he was the one holding him. Which was, of course, absurd; Murdoc hardly ever comforted anyone, let alone 2-D, but as the singer strained to hear the world around him, it was indeed Murdoc's voice that was telling him to hang on and that everything would be okay. It was strange to hear Murdoc's voice sounding so subdued, and despite being so un-Murdoc, the tone seemed to suite him.

Another few seconds of blackness as pain covered his eyes completely, another few seconds of no sound, but of course it came back, only fainter. Lee was on the ground now, Styx attacking the drunken Damien who had somehow stumbled to his knees. The rain continued to beat down as the two rolled about, struggling in the road in a primal battle of man versus beast. 2-D heard Murdoc holler for Styx, and the Butterscotch Angel wondered why Murdoc was so close, yet sounded so far away. Styx didn't listen to the bassist's commands, and pain's black fingers began inching over 2-D's eyes again. He saw only one thing before pain closed his eyes completely.

He saw light. And then there was only sound, but that was fading too.

He heard thunder, booming out a cry of despair.

He heard Murdoc scream for Styx.

And screeching tires.

A sickening thump.

Then...

Nothing.


	9. Of Tears And Sunsets

A/N: The last chapter. –Sniffles- But, it was fun and I had a great time with it, made some new friends because of it, and I hope everyone out there reading this enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Reviewer recognition is at the bottom.

If you'll look to the left of the tour, you'll find hospitals, sunsets, and even _more_ plate abuse. -Avoids more assassination attempts by angry plates-

I don't own Gorillaz, but the rival band and the doggie are mine.

* * *

Chapter 9: Of Tears And Sunsets

2-D opened his eyes slowly, dazzled by all the white. It was everywhere, all around him, filling every thing he could see. After the whiteness, he noticed the light. It was bright, blindingly bright, and smack dab in the middle of the vast ocean of white. He was on something soft – a cloud? – and he felt no pain.

Then, his eyes adjusted and he saw tiles that checkerboarded the ceiling and the white curtain that hung from a metal bar on his left. He blinked, turned his head and saw beyond the curtain the window, which was shut tightly against the rain pouring down; pouring down so hard it was as if the heavens themselves were mourning. His eyes traveled up a bit and he saw the IV tube that was dripping that beautifully numbing morphine (at least, he assumed it was morphine. Whatever it was, it worked wonders) into his arm. He turned his head to the right and was instantly caught off guard.

Murdoc was there, as was Noodle. Both were asleep, which was a feat in itself as there were no chairs in the room. Instead, Murdoc sat on the floor with his legs crossed Indian style, leaning back against the wall, his head lowered and his dark bangs concealing his eyes. Noodle was curled in his lap, clinging to him like the small child she truly was, and to Murdoc's credit he held her protectively like the older brother she always thought of him as. Neither had a blanket, though Murdoc had draped his jacket over Noodle in an attempt to shelter her from the cold. Though Russel was absent, something deep inside of 2-D told him that the drummer had only left just recently; perhaps he had woken before the others and gone to get food, or go to the restroom.

2-D looked around the hospital room once more, trying his hardest to recall what all had happened. The band had been watching movies and then... and then what? And why was he in the hospital? That was usually Murdoc's calling card. He shivered and tried to sit up.

"Don't."

The singer instantly obeyed the command, looking over at Murdoc. The bassist had raised his head, and was regarding the Butterscotch Angel with weary, tired eyes. He looked infinitely older, as though he had been living with years of constant worry, and again 2-D struggled to remember the circumstances that had landed him here.

"Use the buttons, Stu." At first, 2-D didn't understand what the Bass Demon was talking about, but after a moment of searching, he located the buttons on his bed and flicked the switch that raised the top half until he was sitting up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Murdoc grimace.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." Murdoc grunted. "Damn leg's asleep."

Silence descended again and Murdoc held the singer's gaze until 2-D grew increasingly nervous and looked down at his hands. There was something in the bassist's eyes. Something bad.

"Murdoc? 'Ow long'ave I been 'ere?" The question lingered in the air for a moment like a bad stench until Murdoc sighed.

" 'Bout two days."

/_Two days?_/ The blue haired singer leaned back in his bed, looking at the white checkerboard ceiling, trying again to recall what on earth had happened. /_We were watchin' zombie movies... Noodle was asleep, 'n Russel was goin' offta bed... 'n den..._/ "Murdoc? Wot 'appened?"

The Satanist grimaced again, only this time the singer knew it wasn't from his sleeping leg, and 2-D was instantly sorry he asked. He opened his mouth; ready to apologize for his damaged memory, apologize for everything and anything he had ever done wrong, but Murdoc spoke first. "Damien shot you." The three words barreled into 2-D's ears, clearing out all the mess in his head like a maid hit with spring fever. All the dust, cobwebs and painkiller induced haziness were swept aside as everything came flooding back in a mess of midnight, booze and blood.

"Murdoc, wot 'appened ta Styx?" There was an almost frantic terror in the singer's voice; a cold clammy fear that made his black eyes burn.

The Bass Demon didn't respond. He only winced, looked away; that was an answer in itself.

There were tears; millions of them, enough to fill the deepest ocean, and they flowed from 2-D's eyes so fiercely that they rivaled the fat wet raindrops cascading from the hurting skies. There was silence, broken only by the stray hiccupping sob that managed to escape the singer's clamped mouth. He drew his long legs up, buried his face into the sheets at his knees and wept, sobbing soundlessly; afraid that too much noise would attract a nurse or doctor, wanting only to be alone, all alone, to mourn the death of his friend, his family and his bringer of happiness.

Murdoc watched the silent tears and something stirred inside of him, just as it had when Noodle had broken into tears. Something strange, yet forceful; something protective and comforting. It had been born of a gunshot two nights ago, and it seemed attracted to tears and pain. He rose on shaky legs, still cradling the sleeping Noodle. Using his boot he managed to spread his jacket on the ground, and he silently knelt and gently laid her on the jacket, careful not to wake her. He kissed her forehead and straightened; she had needed his comfort, had cried in his arms so hard she had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, but now 2-D needed that same comfort, and Murdoc was the only one there. He felt awkward, crossing the room to stand next to 2-D's bed, yet he knew that this wasn't the time to grab a bottle of Stolie and pretend everything was okay. He often imagined that 2-D was made of steel, having survived a rough childhood, two car crashes and a coma, but the sight before him shattered that illusion. He sat on the edge of the bed, hesitated, felt that strange older-brotherly something stir in him again and finally draped his arm across 2-D's shaking shoulders. " 'M sorry, Stu..." He murmured.

2-D pulled his face out of his knees, struggling to control the sobs enough to get a sentence out. "M-M-Murdoc?" His voice trembled as twin waterfalls continued to pour from the corners of his eyes. "Why'd... why'd 'e... 'affta..." His voice cracked and a fresh round of sobs racked his body. He buried his face into the bassist's chest, grabbing his shirt, crying into the soft grey fabric that smelled of everything wonderful and wicked all at once. He felt strong, sure arms embrace him, just as they had the night everything had gone wrong, and again he heard Murdoc's soft murmurs of comfort, telling him to cry all he wanted, that it wasn't his fault, and that everything would be okay.

At that point 2-D had sobbed into Murdoc's shirt, "But it won't!" His voice cracked again, and he buried his face deeper into the fabric. "It'll ne'er be o-okay..."

"Yes, it will." Murdoc whispered in that awkward comforting voice he had only just discovered two nights ago. He tightened his embrace, as if trying to will the heartache and anguish that gripped his best friend's heart to flee. "I know it don't seem like it will now, but it will, Stu. I swear."

After a moment of silence, 2-D sniffled and looked up at Murdoc. "I made 'im a pr-promise... 'n I didn't k-keep it... 'e... 'e 'ates me!" A new flood of tears and sobs surged through him, shaking his body.

"Don't be daft, Stu." Murdoc bit his lip; he had sounded sharper than he would have liked. The strange urge to comfort surged through him again and he gave the younger man another consoling squeeze. " 'Ey, look." His voice was soft and comforting again; it sounded strange and alien to him, but that didn't –_couldn't_– stop him. "I don't know 'bout any promise, but I know this; Styx loved you, Stuart 'n don't you dare think otherwise, got me?"

Though 2-D made no indication to Murdoc whether or not he had even heard the Bass Demon's words, something in the singer's soul felt better. He buried his face deeper into Murdoc's shirt and let more tears fall.

A moment later the room's door was gently opened, and Russel stuck his head in, only to see a sight so surreal it baffled him. Murdoc was comforting 2-D. Not growling at him, not snapping at him to get over it, not howling with laughter at the tears that the singer shed... comforting him like the brother and idol that 2-D always saw him as. Despite all the sorrow of the last few days, Russel found, to his great relief, that he could still smile.

Too much had happened; to much sadness. He had just been down to the ICU, giving his condolences to Lee and Clayton, who had done likewise. There had been an awkward silence, until Russel had finally asked the two for the whole story (Murdoc hadn't been willing to tell either him or Noodle why he and 2-D had been out there at that time of night, and Russel had suspected it was to fight) and the drummer had been quite shocked to hear that they were burying the hatchet, even in light of recent circumstances. The only one both groups blamed was Damien.

Murdoc looked up and caught Russel's eye. Without moving the still sobbing 2-D, the bassist mouthed the word 'Damien?' and Russel shook his head. Neither said a word; now wasn't the time to inform 2-D of the rival guitarist.

Like Styx, Damien had not survived the crash.

* * *

The sun was setting, getting closer and closer to that pivotal point where it would flood the valley with its golden rays. It was the first day that the sky had not mourned with the constant falling of Heaven's tears. 2-D was there, as was Murdoc; Russel and Noodle had gone out to find something for the band to eat, leaving the two alone. Going out there had been Murdoc's idea. Both men had plates in their hands, and there was only one thing transcribed on each plate.

2-D looked down to the ground, and for the millionth time felt a nauseating mix of grief and loss at the absence of a hyper brown dog with mismatched eyes and floppy ears dancing about his feet. With his free hand, he wiped away the tears that were threatening to leak from his eyes. It was amazing how many tears one could produce; 2-D had cried an entire ocean, yet there were still tears to be shed.

"You ready, Stu?"

The black-eyed singer nodded. The two of them flung their plates out, and when they shattered 2-D felt the same exhilaration he had the first time he had thrown his problems into the wind. He was glad to know that nothing seemed to deter that feeling of elation. For the first time in a long, agonizing week of grief and sorrow, 2-D felt his mouth twitch into a ghost of a smile.

Murdoc exhaled a puff of smoke. "Any better?"

Though he remained silent, 2-D nodded, for which Murdoc was glad. The bassist was about to suggest that they head back in, just in case Russel decided to chow down on everything and leave him and 2-D nasty stuff like vegetables, when the sun was once again trapped between the two mountains and painted the valley with its stunning golden light. Murdoc's jaw dropped a fraction of an inch. "Fuck me..." He breathed as a surge of inspiration rushed through him. His eyes darted over to 2-D. "Now, that's somethin' innit?"

2-D nodded, the ghostly smile on his lips getting a fraction bigger. "Yeah... I like it. I try'n come out 'ere e'ery night."

"Do you?" Murdoc looked back at the scene, and the inspiration he had felt multiplied with a second look at the golden valley. Already his mind was making mental notes of new possible melodies. "Might hafta join you one a these days, when I ain't busy, mind."

The singer's heart nearly stopped; wasn't that exactly what he had wished for right before Styx had appeared? His conversation with Noodle echoed in his mind, _'Styx-chan was meant to come to us...' 'Wot's 'e s'posed ta do?' 'I do not think we will find that out until he does it, 2-D-san.'_ Had that been the dog's purpose? To find 2-D a friend to watch the sunset with? To bring Murdoc and 2-D closer together? If so, it had worked; though Murdoc still used the derogatory nicknames, still kicked him around and all, there was no malice in the acts. It was as if the acts were now just a reflex or a bad habit. It was almost as if Styx's death hadn't fazed the bassist at all, but 2-D knew that wasn't true. Murdoc just did what he always did when something was bothering him; bottled everything up inside and eased the pain with Stolie and smokes. 2-D knew that wasn't the best thing to do, but he also knew that some things would never change. Maybe, on some evening when the two of them were watching the sunset, 2-D could manage to get Murdoc to open up a bit, like that early morning that seemed like a lifetime ago.

2-D's flicker of a smile got another fraction bigger. "Fank you, Murdoc... I'd like dat a lot."

Another exhalation of smoke. "Don't go getting' all touchy feely on my, twat. S'not like I agreed ta marry you 'r nuthin'."

For the fist time in a week, 2-D laughed. It was small, a chuckle really, but it was real and it brightened the gloom and chased away all the darkness and sadness of the world, if only for a second. Laughter could do that; laughter was innocence vocalized. Murdoc was glad that 2-D had somehow managed to hold onto his innocence despite all of this darkness. They were opposites in that way; Murdoc could never be innocent, 2-D, it seemed, could never fully lose his.

They stayed for another few minutes until the sun was gone and the sky was beginning to darken. 2-D pulled out a cigarette, patted his pockets and, once he found he had left his lighter back in the studio, turned to Murdoc who was extinguishing his own spent cig under his boot. "Light?" It was a first step back in the direction of 'normalcy', though nothing would ever be 'normal' again. A new routine, a new set of feelings and actions and small subtle things would eventually become a 'new' normal, but the band would never again have that past normalcy; where waking with the feeling of a warm, furry body next to you, dropping choice bits of breakfast, lunch and dinner, and old Frisbees and discarded tennis balls were normal.

Murdoc got out another cigarette and flicked open his lighter, the small flame swaying in the breeze. The two men leaned close, lit up their cigs and were quiet for a moment, each dwelling on their own thoughts. Finally, after another minute had passed and the sky had darkened even more, Murdoc stretched with a grunt. "Let's get back inside, Tosser, 'afore Russ eats alla food 'r those damn zombies show up." 2-D nodded and the two started back towards Kong.

" 'N Tosser, we gotta lay offa those plates fer a while. Be eatin' with 'r hands at this rate."

"But... dat's wot bowels 'r fer, right?"

Murdoc, not having a wry response to that -or _any_ response for that matter- just snorted a cloud of smoke out of his nose, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and muttered something about brainless dullards.

For the second time that night 2-D smiled.

/_I watched them go back to their home, different in a way, yet in a way still the same. Murdoc was still grouchy and he still drank and swore more than he should, and 2-D, despite the pain of the last week, could still smile, still laugh. But they had changed too; Murdoc, when none of the others were around, was more brotherly towards 2-D, and a fierce protective streak for the singer had been awakened on that terrible night. I'm sure that in time, as things happened and the world moved on, a protective streak would be awakened for every member of the band, even Russel. And 2-D had changed as well, though his changes were subtler; it was in the way he talked about his band mates, and other things precious to him, and the way he looked towards the sky, like he was watching for it to open and show him the answers he had never fully received. I was sorry to leave him, and though I loathed causing him pain, it had to hurt to heal. They would not see me again, even if I were to pass right in front of them, their eyes wouldn't see me; they didn't _need_ to see me anymore, I had done what 2-D had asked for, I had been his angel from Heaven and I had given him a friend to watch the sunset with him. I watched them go, angel and demon, singer and bassist, brothers, family, friends, and once their shapes had vanished into Kong I turned away, and trotted off, tail wagging slightly and tongue lolling out as always; there were other wishes that needed granting_./

-Fin-

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A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I never would have believed that this story would generate 80+ reviews. Some special shout outs too:

Kimmy-Sama: You were one of my first reviews, and you're still here, giving me inspiration every chapter I post. Styx and I are honored that you have a Styx plushie; give him an extra hug for me.

YomioriWolfdemon: Thanks for all the gifts, the best one being your friendship. Hope you like the ending, and I hope to chat with on AIM sometime soon!

Xiao-Darkcloud: Thanks so much for the many kind reviews you've left. I hope someday you get to try breaking plates to relieve stress; I've found it actually works. -Grin-

Jade: Thanks for the trophy and yes, I have considered being an author for many years. Thanks for the praise, it's a wonderful feeling knowing someone else likes your work.

Danakagome: You've left me some really nice reviews, and I thank you. It because of you (and others who always review) that this story got so far and got so good. Thanks again!

Don't worry, this won't be my last Gorillaz fic, but until I get College figured out and all, I can't say when I'm gonna get the next story up. My original vampire story, which I have been working on for the last three years can be found on my profile, if anyone cares to read that. Hugs to all of you, and I hope you all enjoyed this story!


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